Suits
by SearScare
Summary: AU. On the run from a drug deal gone bad, Percy Jackson, a brilliant high school-dropout, finds himself a job working with Annabeth Chase, one of New York City's best lawyers. But for Percy to succeed in the new world he now inhabits, he must learn to juggle his past, which threatens him at every turn, and his very demanding boss, who doesn't seem to even like him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay: so I'm not exactly sure _why _I wrote this. I felt liked I needed to get out of a rut and the show 'Suits' caught my interest. After completing the first two seasons; I decided that Percy and Annabeth could fit the roles of Mike and Harvey really well.**

**Yes; I'm being extremely unoriginal. No, I don't care. I just _had _to write this.**

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**PILOT**

**ACT ONE: INTRODUCTION**

New York City buzzed with life even though it was well past 11 pm. Bars, clubs and hotels all operated with gusto as the city's nightlife population crowded around them, all determined to have a good time. Music blared, alcohol flowed and several people ended up shedding their clothes in the seedy bathroom stalls of said entertainment places.

However, in the centre of NYC's most powerful offices –also known as Wall Street– stood a grand old building which housed one of the most respected law firms in the country: Pearson Hardman. And on its 30th floor were a group of people who were wide awake and _not _having a good time.

Divided across a long conference table, they argued, quarrelled, bickered, disagreed and disputed on one particular thing. Papers flew, sleeves were rolled back and chairs were pushed aside as the two teams came nose to nose, radiating anger, disbelief and most of all: uncooperativeness.

In one corner of the room a single man stood still, watching the chaos. His name was Triton Gray. He was forty years old and one of the junior partners in Pearson Hardman. He was _also _in charge of the deal which had just taken a turn for the worse.

Triton's fingers dug into his palm, and his knuckles turned white in frustration. Breathing a defeated sigh, he turned on his heel and left the room, following one of the long corridors which would lead him to the most powerful man in the building: Charles "Chiron" Pearson.

Triton walked into the office, trying to keep his professional demeanour intact. Chiron was reading a file, utterly at ease with his life despite the fact that he was confined to a wheelchair—thanks to an accident which had taken place nearly two decades ago. Silver cropped up in places along his beard and his hair but it only added to the distinguished aura that surrounded him.

Triton came to a stop in front of his boss. 'Gerald Tate is here. He wants to know what's happening to his deal.'

Chiron didn't even look up. 'Get Annabeth.'

Triton gritted his teeth. This was _his _deal; he didn't want some other partner walking in and stealing it away. _Especially _not Chiron's pet protégée. He raised a hand to object and Chiron looked up, raising a single eyebrow as though he was daring Triton to say something.

Triton gulped. He wasn't stupid enough to take on the founder of the firm he worked in. He nodded –even though the action made him burn with anger– and without another word, walked out, already moving to send the message of help to his most hated rival.

* * *

Annabeth Chase stared at the man across her, her cool gaze giving nothing away. She glanced once more at her cards and allowed herself an internal smile of triumph.

'I check.' She told her opponent, knowing that he'd take the bait.

Sure enough James Cook, one of the senior partners of Pearson and Hardman, grinned enormously and pushed a stack of chips forward. 'Raise. Five thousand.'

Annabeth smiled just a little bit and moved her stack of chips across the table in one efficient gesture. 'I'm all in.'

For the first time during the game, doubt flashed across Cook's face. Hesitatingly, he picked up his cards and threw them across the table: a pair of queens. They were good cards, _excellent _cards in fact, but for tonight: they just weren't enough.

Annabeth's phone beeped just as she flipped her cards open: a pair of aces.

Cook grimaced and looked away, curling his fingers into a fist. Annabeth allowed herself a proper smile, out in the open as she checked her message.

**Charles Pearson:  
**_I need you._

Three simple words which meant Annabeth would be working for the rest of the evening. While most people hated going back to work in the middle of the night, she only felt a rush of excitement. Finally; something else to challenge her aside from old men who clearly didn't know how to bluff.

She rose, keeping her expression neutral as she looked at Cook. 'You can pay me later—I have to leave.'

Cook snorted in annoyance.

'Gentlemen.' Annbeth nodded politely to the five other people at the table, all of them senior partners, and all of them big contributors her winnings.

Grinning, she adjusted her tie slightly and walked out of the room.

* * *

When Annabeth entered her boss' office, a tall balding man was expressing his anger rather loudly to Chiron who was listening, it seemed, attentively. However, Annabeth caught the hint of the amused smirk on the founding partner's mouth which told her that the man she had to deal with was nothing but a posturing corporate idiot who just happened to be a heavily paying client of Pearson Hardman.

'I'm paying you millions!' The man said angrily, 'and you're telling me I'm going to get screwed?'

Annabeth glided to a halt in front of her boss. 'Chiron. Have I come at a bad time?'

Chiron stroked his beard thoughtfully before fixing the full weight of his stare on the other man in the room. 'Gerald, this is Annabeth Chase. She's our best closer.'

Any other person would have beamed with pride upon hearing such a statement from their boss but not Annabeth. There was nothing to feel proud of: it was the truth. She _was_ the best closer in the firm—possibly the entire city.

Chiron passed her a file and pressed a few buttons on his wheelchair, physically disengaging himself from the conversation. Accordingly the bald man shifted his anger to Annabeth.

'If _you're_ the best closer then where the hell have you been for the last four hours?' The disgust in his voice was unmistakable. Even in the 21st century some men just refused to believe that women belonged in the corporate world, and if they did, they were not fit to hold high positions. Annabeth dealt with them every day; her own colleague was one of them. This bald man didn't intimidate her in the least.

'Well, Gerald,' She said, her tone bordering on cool indifference as she flipped open the file and began to read quickly, 'I specialize in troubled situations and when I left here at 7 pm, this deal wasn't in jeopardy.'

Annabeth looked up and raised her eyebrows at Gerald Tate. 'So I'm just trying to figure out what happened in the interval.' She paused, waiting for him to fill her in –something which wasn't really necessary since she had the file in her hands– but was essential to shift the balance of power in the room.

Tate's lip curled aggravation. 'We keep offering them more money and they keep rejecting it. It's last minute, bad faith, bullshit.'

Annabeth frowned at the explanation, glancing down at the file as the significant words jumped out at her. 'It says here that Cooper won't be staying on as Honorary Vice President.'

Tate's chest inflated with typical male ego. 'That's right I don't want him around.'

Annabeth stared at the man, unable to believe that someone so rich could be so stupid. 'He wouldn't _be _around,' she said in her best polite "you're an idiot" tone. 'It's an "honorary" position.'

Tate's chin rose stubbornly. 'I don't give a shit.'

Annabeth nodded, already beginning to plan her attack in her head. 'Well I think you do,' she said gesturing to the file she held, 'because that's what's changed since I left.' She closed the file—it was of no more use and refrained from pointing it at Tate, 'which means it's _you _whose been dealing in bad faith.'

He obviously didn't like her flipping the table around because his tone became increasingly hostile. 'Well, now that you've got a _grasp _of what's happened in the goddamn interim; what you gonna do about it?'

Tate paused to add emphasis to his next words. 'Because he's not getting that damn title.'

Annabeth glanced at her boss and found him sitting entirely relaxed as he watched the argument. He gave her a discreet nod, showing that he would back her, which gave her the necessary confidence to put her plan into action.

'Let me make sure I understand this,' she said not bothering to keep her tone polite, 'we negotiated a deal that gave you everything you wanted and Mr. Cooper signed it and now,' Annabeth paused, her eyes narrowing in disgust as she looked at Tate, 'you won't close till you take away the last shred of his _dignity?_'

'Bingo.' Tate's ugly expression remained.

'Well, that's not going to happen, then.' Annabeth shrugged, tossing the file on to the nearest plush couch.

Tate's eyes bugged in disbelief. He clearly wasn't used to people standing up to him. 'And why the hell not?'

Annabeth smiled coldly, 'because I _like _Mr. Cooper. And my firm does not operate on _bad faith._'

Understanding glowed in Gerald Tate's eyes and he took a threatening step forward. 'Oh. I see how it is. Instead of working Cooper, you're working _me._' He clenched his teeth, 'well, why don't you take your _pansy _attitude in there and make him sign the deal? Or else I'll pay someone else your money to do it for me.'

Annabeth wanted to laugh when she heard the "threat." Really; how had this guy survived in the corporate world so long? The guy in the mailroom of Pearson Hardman could be more threatening. She also wanted to laugh because the net was laid beautifully. All she had to do was hit the trigger. Smiling, she walked past Tate and headed for her favourite seat in Chiron's office—the leather couch.

'First of all, _Gerald,_' she said taking measured steps so she could time the punch carefully, 'if you think anyone's going to touch this deal after you're bad faith; you're mistaken.'

Tate's uneasy silence was enough to galvanise her.

'Second,' she said turning around and sitting down on the couch, 'the way our agreement works is that the minute Cooper signed the deal, which gave you everything _you _wanted...'

Tate flinched at the words but didn't back down.

'... _our_ fee was due and payable,' Annabeth continued, enjoying herself thoroughly, 'which is why at 7.30 this evening, I received confirmation of a wire transfer indicating payment in full.'

She reached inside her jacket pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper, unfolding it so that Tate could see it clearly. He gulped and Annabeth couldn't resist offering it to him to take a better look at.

Tate didn't take it.

Annabeth shrugged and put it back inside her pocket, 'so I'd say the ball is in your court but the truth is,' her tone turned razor sharp and she stood up again so that she could look Tate in the eye, 'your balls are in _my _fist.'

She grinned, her gaze never wavering from his, 'now I'd apologize if that image is too _pansy _for you—but I'm comfortable enough with myself to put it out there.'

Annabeth waited a full five seconds before she spoke again, her words completely serious. 'Now get your ass back in there and close the "goddamn" deal.'

Tate turned to Chiron, trembling with anger. 'You're gonna let her talk to me like this?'

Chiron smiled, amused. 'Annabeth speaks for the firm.'

Gerald Tate was beaten and he knew it. With one last venomous glare at Annabeth –who simply smiled winningly back in response– he left the office, swearing under his breath as he headed to the chaotic conference room.

Annabeth allowed herself to feel the glow of success and turned to her boss who was looking at her with a shrewd glint in his eye.

'We got _paid _before Mr. Tate signed the deal?'

Annabeth grinned at Chiron, affecting a mask of innocence. 'What're you talking about?' She reached inside and pulled out the piece of paper and gave it to her boss, 'this is a memo about some fire drill on Tuesday.'

Chiron chuckled, accepting it.

'You're the Blue Team captain, by the way.' Annabeth informed him, 'you get to wear a fire hat.'

Charles "Chiron" Pearson very rarely laughed out loud when he was at work, but this time he did as Annabeth gave him a final wave and exited the office.

Oh yeah. She was _definitely _the best closer in the city.

* * *

It was 11.57 am and Percy Jackson yawned, trying to will time to go faster. Around him papers were turned with haste and pencils scratched on their surface with increasing fervour. Three minutes for the exam to end and they had to get everything in before the bell rang.

Unlike the others, Percy was utterly at ease. He'd finished the exam half an hour earlier, but that was nothing next to his personal record. Then again, he had been wasted the night before so he supposed, half an hour wasn't bad. Absentmindedly, he spun the HB pencil in his hand—once, twice, thrice as the guy sitting next to him moaned in frustration.

Percy tried to imagine what it was like, having studied for a test and then not being able to remember the answers in time. He'd never faced the problem because he'd been born with a photographic memory: he never _ever _forgot what he'd once read, seen or heard.

Which was why, he made a living by impersonating people who had to take the LSAT's—for a fee of course. With his memory, he could have already gotten hired into any company of his choice but nobody wanted a high school dropout who'd never attended a college.

Besides, he reasoned with himself, he made enough money this way. And his life was comfortable enough.

Finally, the bell rang.

'Time's up!' The invigilator called, 'pencils down, please.'

As much as he wanted to rush to the front table and throw down his –or technically, Ethan Nakamura's– answer booklet, Percy waited till at least half the room surrounded the table before getting up.

Yawning again, he handed over the papers to the invigilator.

The guy looked like any high school professor which a receding hairline, rolled up sleeves and a suit vest over his plaid shirt. His eyes, however, narrowed in sudden suspicion. 'Do I know you from somewhere?'

Percy's fought to keep his expression pleasant. This had happened before. All he had to do was bluff his way through, 'Uh, I don't think so. I have a pretty good memory for faces.'

The invigilator didn't buy it. 'Yeah; so do I.' He took Percy's paper and set it down, aside from the rapidly growing stack on the centre of his desk.

_Shit, _Percy thought. The paper would be marked with "unfair means used" and would never get graded. But he couldn't insist for it to be put in the correct bundle, as it is he didn't look anything like Ethan Nakamura even if he'd attempted to wear the blue cap and glasses to help with his disguise.

Percy wavered, not knowing what to do, until somebody tossed their paper on to the table. It hit the edge and fell to the floor.

'Oops. Sorry!' The someone –a girl– squeaked and the invigilator automatically bent down to retrieve the wayward booklet.

Acting on instinct, Percy picked up his sheet and pushed it into the middle of the stack, making sure not to let it fall. Heart racing, he turned away immediately and forced himself to walk steadily towards the door. Once he was out of it; he'd be free and nobody would suspect a thing.

He was ten metres from the door when his luck ran out.

'Hey stop! You in the blue cap!'

The invigilator's shout spurred Percy into action. Slipping between the students, he burst through the front doors, momentarily confused about where he was. His panic subsided a little and he gathered his wits in order. He needed somewhere to hide. Immediately.

Turning around, he headed for the men's room and slammed the door open, praying that nobody was inside. Thankfully, the room appeared to be empty. Moving quickly, Percy peeled off his shirt revealing the red T-shirt underneath and stuffed it into the dustbin along with the glasses.

He was about to mete out the same treatment to the cap when something occurred to him.

Holding it to his side, Percy opened the door of the restroom and peered out cautiously. The invigilator was standing a few feet away, back turned, and examining the students who were hurrying pass.

Percy slipped out, acting nonchalant and jammed the cap down on some guy who was walking past. The invigilator, alerted by the guy's cry of protest turned around and saw the cap. Percy flattened himself against the wall, as the invigilator ran passed him, not even glancing his way.

Grinning with relief, Percy turned the corner and blended into the crowd, vowing to not take the LSAT's again for a few months.

* * *

Percy knocked on the door, jamming his hands into his pockets, still not completely over the close call he'd just had. Sure, his business of taking exams for other people was always a little dangerous but he never had to act with such speed ever before.

Ethan Nakamura opened the door and gazed at Percy with suspicion. 'What did you get me?'

Taken aback, Percy answered truthfully, 'what I _said _I would get you. A 158.'

Ethan frowned, 'I told you I wanted a 175.'

Annoyed by the hostility and restraining the urge to tell the guy about the ordeal he'd just been through, Percy forced himself to remain calm. 'And I told you only one out of a hundred people get a 175.'

Ethan didn't appear to understand so Percy pulled out the big guns.

'You're a B- student and you got a 1000 on your SAT's, if I got you a 175, they'd know you cheated.'

'So... only a genius loser can get a 175?' Ethan asked, making no attempt to hide who he was referring to.

Annoyed, Percy snapped. 'Actually no; I would get a 180.' He held out Ethan's ID, 'now can I get my money, please?'

Ethan gritted his teeth but took back the card, reaching into his wallet to count out the bills. Percy rocked back and forth on his heels, trying not to show his frustration. Why couldn't his clients just be grateful for what he'd done for them once in a while?

Finally, Ethan held out the bunch and Percy accepted it without a word, grateful to finish the transaction. It was only when he tried to slip it into his pocket he noticed that the money was a little light.

'Wait a second.' He said, realization dawning quickly, 'this is only half!'

Ethan smirked, the cunning expression on his face completely at odds with his nerdy look, 'then why don't you go call the police?'

Still smiling, he slammed the door in Percy's face.

* * *

'Dude. I'm serious. I've got to stop getting stoned and I've got to get my act together.'

Percy put his head back on the couch, hoping the headache he had reverberating inside his head would stop. In front of him, the television blared, meaningless images filling up the room with a glowing white light. On the table in front of him, lay the remains of two cheeseburgers and a bunch of fries.

'Dude. Look at me. You can burn bud and still be a success.'

Percy turned his head to see his oldest (and best) friend holding his hands out and grinning. Luke Castellan and he had become friends way back in the third grade and somehow their friendship had survived the passage of high school, college (which Percy never attended) and finally adulthood (which ended up with Luke choosing a rather shady profession.) Unlike Percy, who had dark hair and green eyes, Luke was the complete opposite with blonde hair and blue eyes... eyes which were very good with pleading their way through tight situations.

'You sell _pot _for a living!' Percy couldn't help but exclaim because in his head that wasn't a real job. A _real _job would be like what his father was. A lawyer. A rich, successful, charismatic lawyer... who'd unfortunately been gunned down by some people he'd sent to jail. Percy had admired his father, right up till he'd died and left the family with almost next to nothing.

'All I'm saying,' Luke said reaching forward to grab another fry, 'is if you want in. You are in!'

Percy rolled his eyes. 'You know; that is word for word your offer before I got _caught _cheating on your math test in the third grade.'

Luke's innocent expression could have melted butter. 'What a goddamn memory.'

That didn't amuse Percy in the least. 'Stop.' He groaned, wishing there was some way he could go back to high school and stop his younger self from making the worst mistake in his life.

'Look,' Luke said in his most persuasive tone, 'no one is going to suspect you're a dealer. I mean look at me,' he gestured to his clothes which even Percy had to admit were pretty top notch.

'This is a two thousand dollar suit, Perce.' Luke shrugged modestly, 'And I have like twelve of them. I have clients who bring me briefcases _filled _with cash...' His expression turned dreamy, 'and I hand them identical briefcases filled with vacuum sealed bud.'

'Then what d'you need me for?' Percy shot back, feeling the headache worsen. He really needed to stop smoking up so much. It was obvious his brain didn't agree with it.

'Well,' Luke raised his eyebrows over the top if his steepeled fingers, 'I have a client coming in from out of town... _I _can't meet him and I need someone I can _trust _to make the drop.'

He nodded exaggeratedly and Percy couldn't help but roll his eyes again.

'...and it's totally safe.' Luke finished with a flourish.

Percy snorted; somehow that end bit didn't convince him at all. A little nugget of information floated to the centre of his head from the deep recesses of his memory and he couldn't help but throw it out. 'Luke, a person is more likely to die while dealing drugs than on death row in Texas.'

'Wait, what?' Luke's face was a mask of confusion.

'It's from freakonomics!' Percy exclaimed, 'don't you read _anything _I give you?'

Luke gave him a "ya think" look and shrugged, unembarrassed of his confession.

'It doesn't matter,' Percy continued as the distinct sounds of somebody opening the apartment door filtered through the space, 'because you have to find somebody else. I'm not interested.'

'Not interested in what?' A new voice joined the conversation and both Luke's and Percy's head turned to welcome the new arrival: Bianca Di Angelo.

Bianca was of average height and she came up to both Percy's and Luke's shoulder. Her dark eyes often gleamed with emotion and that along with her silky brown hair made her look fairly Greek. Percy had liked her the minute he'd set eyes on her... which was when Luke had introduced her as his girlfriend.

Unlike Percy, Luke wasn't pleased to see Bianca.

'What're you doing here?' He demanded roughly, 'you said you were going to stay at _your _place tonight.' The accusation in his tone was apparent for all to hear.

Bianca glanced at Percy, as if to ask what she'd done wrong but her looked away, his feelings a mess as usual.

'Hi honey,' Bianca said in an obvious attempt to show Luke how he was _really _supposed to greet her, 'what a pleasant surprise. I'm so glad you stopped by.'

Luke snorted and looked away. 'Yeah, okay. We're in the _middle _of something.'

'What're you in the middle of?' Bianca pouted prettily and Percy cursed himself thoroughly for not meeting her first. Still, he knew his position and he would never hit on Luke's girlfriend, even if it made his heart ache to be near her sometimes.

Luke blanked out at Bianca's question and looked at Percy for help. Unlike Percy who knew about all of Luke's illicit lifestyle, Bianca remained under the impression that her boyfriend held a corporate job at a software company.

'Luke's trying to set me up.' Percy said quickly, not for the first time in the day thinking on his feet.

'Oh that's terrific.' Bianca's happiness was so genuine that Percy felt horrible. He hated lying to her, even if it meant being a good friend to Luke. Sometimes there was just no winning side.

'Who's the lucky girl?' Bianca wanted to know.

A silence descended on the group as Percy and Luke tried to have one of their "eyes only" conversations without being too obvious about it. Luke raised his eyebrows as if to say, "really _that's_ your cover?" and Percy shrugged minutely, whose fault was it in the first place that he had to lie?

Frowning, Luke gave him a short glare which said "play along or else" and turned back to his girlfriend. 'I'm trying to get Perce to work with me.'

'Oh good.' Unfazed by the change in story, Bianca grinned at Percy. 'You'll pick up writing code like you do everything else.'

Annoyed with deception, and tired after his long, day, Percy stretched. 'Okay, I gotta go. I have to visit my mom in the morning and pay them another month.'

He tried to make the fist bump as quick as possible with Luke, kissed Bianca's cheek hastily for entirely different reasons and headed for the door calling out a farewell over his shoulder.

* * *

'How did you know Gerald wouldn't look at that memo?'

Annabeth smiled at Chiron's question and examined the long stemmed wine glass in front of her. In the background, muted sounds of other patrons of the very exclusive restaurant she was dining at filtered through. She recognized some of them and one in particular caught her attention.

Instead of turning around to see, she looked back at her boss and answered the question. 'Because a charging bull always looks at the red cape... not with the man –or in this case woman– holding the sword.'

Chiron's eyes gleamed with pride. 'By the way, I've set up a meeting with you and John Dockery next week.'

'Dockery?' Annabeth repeated, 'he's Kane and Abbot's biggest client.'

'Not anymore.' Chiron took a sip from his glass with obvious pleasure. 'He's looking around for new representation and I want _you_ to close him.'

Annabeth didn't even have to think about it. 'Consider it done.'

A youthful grin spread across Chiron's face and he nibbled at the mousse in front of him. 'Then you are officially dismissed for the evening.' He raised his glass and Annabeth leaned forward to clink hers together.

'Well you two seem to be celebrating something.'

A new –rather familiar– joined the conversation and Annabeth turned her head to take in the now known figure of the man hovering beside her. At 6 feet three inches, Oscar Haven was one of Pearson Hardman's oldest clients. Annabeth had personally won a large percentage of his law suits singlehandedly.

'We are.' Chiron agreed amiably, 'in fact you, Oscar, are looking at one of the best closers this city's ever seen.'

Annabeth watched Oscar grin and tried her best not to let the praise go to her head. Her boss always loved to congratulate vicariously when she won—at other times though, he was a crouching tiger ready to pounce on anything that came close to ruining his beloved firm.

'You don't need to tell me that Charles,' Oscar shrugged, 'I've seen her do her stuff myself. In fact...' He moved closer to the table and his trademark cologne washed all over Annabeth, 'I'd love to help you celebrate Ms. Chase.'

Annabeth studied the man in front of her and out of the corner of her eye saw Chiron sit up and take notice of the proposal. He was definitely wondering how she was going to deal with a very preferred client without insulting them.

Going through the various consequences of the different scenarios playing out in her head, Annabeth pulled up her most pleasant smile and drained her glass.

'I'm sorry Mr. Haven, but I'm going to have to say "no." I keep late hours—and I really need to get home.' She rose from the table after discreetly seeking permission from Chiron, 'my boss likes to have me in early tomorrow.'

Chiron chuckled into his drink but Oscar didn't look fazed. 'I'm sure we can arrange another time, Ms. Chase.'

Annabeth looked him in the eye for a second, studying the rakishly handsome man in front of her. 'I'm sure we can Mr. Haven. Till then however, I wish you a pleasant night.'

* * *

Sunlight gleamed over the polished exteriors of New York City's skyscrapers and the streets hummed with early morning rush hour traffic. The sun caught one building in particular, whose top floor had photocromic glass instead of the usual concrete walls.

The building was inhabited by wealthy people but the penthouse apartment was arguably out of the range of even their paycheques. It was however, very much within the range of one Annabeth Chase's paycheque.

She stood in her balcony, surveying the city as an Empress might survey her kingdom. In her hand she held a mug of coffee, her first of the three in her day and threw her head back to soak in as much of the rays as she could. Annabeth loved NYC, even though she was born and brought up in San Francisco, there was something about the Big Apple that just made her feel that much more alive.

Sighing in enjoyment, she put her empty mug down and leisurely made her way towards her room. Lying in her bed was a very attractive and very naked Oscar Haven.

'Morning.' He called merrily as she stepped inside.

Annabeth blew her cheeks out in resignation and wondered how she was going to get the man out of her apartment without tearing his fragile ego apart. 'Oscar; this has been lovely but you really need to go.'

Oscar Haven cocked his head to one side. 'Aw, c'mon.'

'I hate to miss a workout,' Annabeth said seriously, 'and I do need to be at the office by 7.30.'

'I can make you breakfast.' Oscar offered, stretching lazily and affording her a very nice few of his toned body. 'In fact,' his eyes glinted wickedly, 'I could eat it off your stomach.'

Annabeth considered the offer. On one hand, going to the gym was routine—and she loved her routine. On the other, Oscar was _very _good in bed and the things he did made a visit to the exercise place a non-necessity. Besides, she _did _like men cooking breakfast for her.

'Well,' she said slowly and slipped out her robe as Oscar sat up, grinning in anticipation, 'if I skip the workout, I can still make it in by 9.'

Laughing, Oscar caught her wrist and pulled her forward, crushing his lips against hers with barely restrained urgency. Smothering her amusement, Annabeth straddled him as they fell back into her covers together.

* * *

Percy felt his heart constrict with emotion as he entered his mother's hospital ward. His mother was less than twice his age but the cancer she'd battled for close to a year now had taken a heavy toll on her. The dinginess of the room didn't help with her overall complexion.

Percy still thought she was beautiful though.

'Mom,' he said, mock sternly as he neared her bed which had machines attached to it by the dozen. 'Dr. Blofis said you aren't taking your medicines on time.'

His mother opened her eyes tiredly, but they danced with happiness when she saw her son. 'Paul's trying to poison me, Percy. I'm not having any of it.'

Grinning at his mom's vitality, Percy sat down on the chair beside her and reached for her hand. 'Mom, that's crazy. Paul promised he won't do any such thing till January. He doesn't want to fill up his quota.'

Sally smiled wanly but gripped her son's hand with surprising strength. Percy gazed at her fondly. They'd given her three months to live, but she'd managed to beat the disease out of it. Even so, he knew it was just a matter of time. The lung cancer was terminal and one way or the other, each day that passed, brought his beautiful mother closer to death.

'Percy,' his mom said suddenly, 'I'm not going to be around forever—and I want you to stop with that... stuff.'

Blindsided by the sudden change in subject, Percy could only stammer, 'what stuff? What're you talking about?'

His mother fixed him with a firm look. 'I may be dying... but I'm not an idiot.'

Percy didn't know what to say. How was it that his mother knew him so well, even when he didn't meet her for most of the week?

'I know life has been hard for you...' Sally's voice trembled with suppressed emotion and Percy shook his head vehemently. Life had never been hard for him. His mom had always been there to protect him. So what if his dad had died when he was eleven and his landlord had physically abused him till he was eighteen. He would take it all over again if it meant getting his mom _her_ life back.

'...but you're not a kid anymore.' Sally smiled sadly, 'And I want you to _promise _that you're going to start living up to your potential.'

Faced with such earnestness and fighting back the sudden wetness in his eyes, what else could Percy say? He'd always known he'd been a bit of a disappointment to his mother but now that she was actually saying it to him, helped harden his resolve. He wanted to make her proud—would, in fact, do _anything _to make her proud.

'I promise, mom.'

Sally's smiled with satisfaction and covered his hand with her thin bony one, as the machines continued beeping ominously in the background.

* * *

'I'm not saying that _I _haven't been charmed by Annabeth...'

Charles "Chiron" Pearson gazed at the desk in front of him with boredom as one of his employees, Triton Gray, continued to talk, obviously unaware of the fact that his boss didn't really give a damn. Chiron liked Triton—he _was _definitely one of the better junior partners that his firm had, but the petty jealousy Triton harboured for Annabeth often drove Chiron to insanity.

Not that he'd ever show it. Oh no, Charles Pearson was the epitome of neutrality. He'd learned to play Switzerland very well in all his years as the managing partner.

'...but it's just so _patronizing _when you say "Triton she can handle those things and you can only handle this.' Triton continued, growing more and more agitated. 'Chiron, I could have _handled _Gerald Tate!'

'And I told you I disagreed.' Chiron said firmly, taking the moment of silence as his opportunity to end the discussion.

'Why?' Triton wanted to know.

Chiron frowned. He didn't like it when his employees –_his _employees– questioned his judgement. Normally Triton knew his place when it came to dealing with his boss but the Gerald Tate affair had clearly raised the man's shackles. Chiron was determined to remind him of where he belonged.

'Because—' Chiron began, with obvious intent at crushing the junior partner but somebody interrupted from the doorway and hijacked his sentence.

'Because when you put two bullies in the same room with each other, things _generally _don't go so well.' Annabeth finished agreeably, sweeping into the room and heading for her favourite leather couch.

Ordinarily Chiron wouldn't have allowed such a display of immaturity but he was tired of arguing with Triton and he figured if he allowed Annabeth leeway, she'd be able wear Triton out, thus saving Chiron the energy.

Triton's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his arch rival doing one up on him. 'It's nine thirty. Nice of you to show up two _hours _after we open business.' He grimaced as he looked at Annabeth again, 'and I see that you're _also _trying to look like a slut.'

Chiron sighed, he didn't approve when rivalry descended into personal comments. Annabeth, however, seemed to take it in her stride.

'My bad, Triton,' She said, brushing her hands over her completely within dress code clothes, 'I was out late last night and when I woke up—these were the clothes your husband picked out for me.'

Despite himself, Chiron smiled. He really had trained Annabeth well. Very few could beat her at her own game.

Triton, meanwhile, was gritting his teeth. 'That would be funny, if I were actually gay.'

'Moving _on,_' Chiron called sharply, shaking his head at Annabeth to stop her from responding, 'to recruiting. Annabeth!'

He waited till he had her full attention before continuing, 'your interviews are set up for tomorrow.'

Annabeth slumped back in the couch, looking less than pleased. '_What? _Why don't we just hire the Harvard summer associate douche?'

Chiron forced himself to be patient. As much as he loved his protégée like his own daughter, Annabeth Chase could be intensely frustrating. 'I think if you _listened _to the phrasing of your question—you'd come up with an answer.'

'We need people who think on their feet!' Annabeth insisted, refusing to be swayed, 'not another clone with a rod up his ass!'

'Annabeth, the fact that we _only _hire from Harvard gives us a cache from which only so many people can be picked.' Triton said condescendingly, from his position next to the door.

Chiron had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes as Annabeth mimed going pointedly deaf at Triton's statement.

Triton threw up his hands in annoyance and Chiron found himself once more in the unenviable position of being a referee.

'_You_ went to Harvard law.' Chiron stated, looking Annabeth in the eye.

Annabeth shrugged smugly, 'I'm the exception.'

'Then find me another one.' Chiron's tone was firm and he was making it loud and clear that he didn't want any more tantrums being thrown. He was their boss, for crying out loud, not some schoolyard teacher to cajole them into doing what they were supposed to do.

Annabeth, however, was making it increasingly difficult. 'Can we _please _skip the recruiting? I work better alone anyway.'

Chiron smiled. It was time to pull out his trump card. He'd anticipated the resistance and by his judgement, now was the time to throw down his ace of spades.

'I would let you,' he said easily, reaching for the cup of tea on his desk, 'but all senior partners get an associate. It's just a rule.'

There was stunned silence as he put the cup back down in disgust. Chiron hated cold tea.

Triton was the first to recover, 'I'm sorry; _what?_'

Chiron merely looked at him.

'Charles—' Triton very rarely resorted to using his boss' full name, which told Chiron that his employee was very angry indeed, '_I _deserve that promotion. My billables destroy hers'!

'I'm here _night and day_ doing what is needed, instead of—' Triton fumed, his anger rendering him nearly inarticulate, 'instead of, swanning in and out of here whenever I please!'

'I must admit,' Annabeth rejoined the conversation, her smug smile once more on display, 'he does make me sound very swanlike.'

'Annabeth,' Chiron said, tired of the back and forth between his employees, 'that's enough.'

'Trition,' He turned to the other man in the room, aside from himself, 'I'm sorry; but this is how it is. Now you two make nice.'

Chiron might as well have asked for the sun to explode. Neither lawyer seemed willing to make the move. Triton continued to glare off into the distance, his jaw tightening and loosening periodically. Chiron almost felt bad for the man but he still stood by his decision. Despite Annabeth Chase's _many _flaws—she was the person for the position of Senior Partner.

'Triton,' Annabeth said eventually, her tone fairly contrite as she stood up, 'I apologize; I was out of line.'

Chiron raised an eyebrow, suspicious. There was no way in hell this was a legitimate apology. Even so, Triton looked slightly mollified.

'Now if you'll just...' Annabeth continued, pulling out her phone, 'let me text your husband that I just made Senior Partner...'

Chiron resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands as Triton turned on his heel and headed out of the room without another word.

'...I'm sure he'll—what? Where're you going?' Annabeth glanced around, mock concerned as Chiron made a mental note to get HR to talk to both his employees. They, very obviously needed to learn a few things.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT TWO: INTERSECTION.**

'Your mother's getting worse.'

Percy winced as he heard the words which basically ruined his day and continued to walk down the hallway with his mother's doctor. Dr. Paul Blofis was about forty years old but he'd obviously aged very well. Percy often thought that if Paul ever got tired of his job, he could easily become a TV actor.

'We need to move her to full care...' Paul continued, his tone making it clear that he was pretty worried as well, 'or she'll have to go to a State facility.'

Percy stopped, aghast at the words. Surely there wasn't so much injustice in the world that his mother, his darling, sweet mother had to be moved to a terrible, underfunded and uncaring place just because he was a few bucks short?

'I'm not letting her go to a State facility.'

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn't care. There was no way he was going to let his mother get shifted out. He just wasn't going to allow it.

'Then I'm afraid you're going to have to pay an extra twenty-five thousand dollars.' Paul said grimly.

Percy felt like somebody had hammered him in the chest. Twenty-five _thousand _dollars? Where in the world was he going to get so much money from? He barely made a thousand dollars a month and what with rent, food and keeping clothes on his back, he couldn't afford more than the two hundred dollar payments he'd been making. He didn't even own a _car _for crying out loud.

'Can't you do something?' Percy asked, desperately.

Paul's expression didn't look encouraging. 'I've tried Percy—but I can't break the rules. You have till the end of the month.'

It occurred to Percy that the doctor was pleading with him in his own way. For reasons unknown Paul Blofis really liked his mother and would hate to have to shift her out. He was giving Percy breathing room. He had three weeks—then he would have to make the payment.

Something from the previous night came back to him, and even though his heart rebelled at the thought, he told himself that he didn't have a choice. Thanking Dr. Blofis, Percy waited till he was outside before making the call.

* * *

Percy stared at the packets and packets of weed lining the briefcase in front of him, feeling slightly nauseous. Luke had agreed to pay him the money he needed for a one time deal. All Percy had to do was drop off the briefcase at room 2412 at the Charlton Hotel, on Park Avenue; and he would get the money to keep his mother in for another month.

Never mind that this went against every fibre of his being—went against the promise he'd made to his mother. Percy was stuck between a rock and a hard place and for him, his mother's health was priority number one.

He heard keys being shoved into a lock and he slammed the briefcase shut as somebody –Bianca– entered Luke's apartment.

'Hey!' She called, smiling warmly.

Heart hammering, and feeling sweat bead on the collar of his shirt, Percy managed a smile. 'Hey. Jeez—you scared the hell out of me.'

'Sorry.' Bianca shrugged apologetically and then did a double take when she noticed him properly. 'Look at you!' Her eyes widened comically and she stepped closer, 'you look great!'

'Thank you.' Percy muttered, self consciously. Luke had ordered him to dress nicely because in his words: "you don't go to a luxury hotel looking like a delivery boy." Frankly, Percy couldn't care less about the way he looked but even he knew there was a strong possibility that the hotel wouldn't allow him entrance if he looked like he'd wandered off the street. So he'd caved and put his only suit through a much needed dry cleaning.

'Oh, tell me you've agreed to work with Luke!' Bianca's eyes shone with happiness and Percy felt the familiar lump return to his throat as he contemplated lying to her.

'On a... trail basis, yeah.' He said, trying to convince himself that lying by omission wasn't really lying at all.

'Good for you.' Bianca grinned and then reached for him. 'Here: hold on a sec.'

Percy let her come close –too close– and do the female ritual of straightening his tie and smoothening down the wrinkles of his shirt. Unable to fight the urge, he found himself drawn into her beautiful eyes. For a second, her hands stilled on his chest and Percy swore that her lips parted slightly.

They stood like that for a long, immeasurable moment until the passing wail of a police siren broke the trance.

Stepping away hurriedly, and cursing himself for the lapse in judgement, Percy turned for the door. 'I've gotta go. Bye.'

'Bye.' She said quietly and as the door shut behind him, Percy allowed himself the thought that maybe—just _maybe, _he wasn't the only one lying to Luke (by omission) about his feelings.

* * *

Percy stared at himself in the ornate mirror and tried to shake the feeling that something was amiss. He didn't know what was wrong; he'd entered the hotel without a problem, passing several bellboys carrying luggage on the way. He'd accessed the elevators easily, after listening to some spoiled kid complain to his father about the pool being closed. He'd ridden up to the correct floor and he was two corridors away from Room 2412.

Attached on the corner of the mirror of the cloakroom Percy was in, was a handwritten note, obviously left behind by someone else who'd been there before him.

It read: _PEARSON HARDMAN ASSOCIATE INTERVIEWS: ROOM 2005._

Percy felt a pang inside him. Lawyers. What he'd give to be one. Sadly, that wasn't possible. He'd never been to law school—couldn't even get in since he'd never completed high school. If he was pretty about it; Percy could blame the entire thing on Luke—but that had been so long ago, that Percy couldn't be bothered anymore. Besides, some dreams just never came through, right?

Sighing to himself, he turned on the tap and splashed water on his face. It was time to focus; all he had to do was drop off the briefcase... after than he was home free and twenty-five thousand dollars richer.

Percy glanced at himself once more. He could do this. All he had to do was drop off a briefcase. That was it. He'd been through worse things before. Nodding, he lifted the case and exited the cloakroom.

* * *

'Okay—Malcolm; this isn't going to work. We need a system.'

Annabeth said leaning on her assistant's desk. She'd just finished interviewing the first ten people on the list Chiron had given her and she'd had enough. Even the thought of being the youngest Senior Partner hadn't been able to cheer her up. Harvard, it seemed, was doing its best to send her the worst, drippiest, most annoying graduates ever and if she was going to survive the next twenty interviews, she needed to winnow out the losers long before they stepped into the interview room.

Malcolm glanced up from the list he was going through, 'what d'you need me to do?'

Annabeth smiled. Sometimes she wished she could just hire him as her associate. Malcolm had been with her right from the start –the very start– and if there was _one _person who knew her as well as Chiron did, it was Malcolm Castle.

'Give each guy a hard time before you send them in,' she told him, 'and if they say something clever—then give me a wink. Cool?'

Malcolm shrugged, unsurprised. 'Okay. What're you looking for, by the way?'

Annabeth grinned, recalling Chiron's earlier words. 'Another me.'

As she headed back to the interview room, she heard Malcolm call up another name. Just as the door closed, Annabeth heard Malcolm's question: "So, _Chip. _Tell me; why would I let the whitest man I have ever seen interview for our firm?"

Grinning, Annabeth shut the door before she heard the response. Yep, she thought forlornly, settling back into her chair, if only she could hire Malcolm. Her day would become so much easier.

* * *

Percy walked down the hallway, counting the doors as he went. 2412 was at the very end, right next to the fire exit—something which pleased him a little. At least he wouldn't have to conduct the business next to a busy place, like right beside the elevators.

Two doors away from the room he needed to be in was a bellboy and another man—obviously a guest. They were murmuring to each other; as the bellboy struggled with the key card he was holding. The guest seemed frustrated and was constantly running his hands through his air.

Percy told himself not to worry. It was just an ordinary hotel problem. It had nothing to do with him. Most likely they wouldn't even notice him.

As he neared the two men, however, Percy felt a nameless fear creep up his spine. The bellboy glanced at him briefly and went back to jiggling with the door. The guest didn't even look up.

Something about the bellboy... Percy's eyes went automatically to the uniformed man's knuckles. They had red bruises and several mottled scars. Nothing wrong with that, Percy thought, the guy probably was part of a fight club in his spare time.

Another image floated into his mind: the bellboy he'd seen at the entrance. He'd been wearing white gloves along with his standard uniform. Come to think of it: so had every other bellboy he'd seen at the hotel. So why wasn't this one wearing his gloves? Maybe he'd forgotten them in his haste to get to work?

Percy didn't know why he stopped, but the past few days he'd been acting a lot on instinct and now his instincts were buzzing like a hornet's nest.

'Excuse me,' he said politely to both men, 'I was thinking about going for a swim; are the pool facilities here nice?'

The guest looked irritated at the interruption and the bellboy bored. 'Of course sir,' the latter said blandly, 'this is the Charlton hotel.'

Percy smiled but his insides were frozen. The pool was closed—something which any hotel employee should have known given the stature of the hotel. Why didn't the bellboy know? He had to know something as basic as that... unless, unless he didn't work at the hotel at all.

Percy turned to the guest, 'uh, sorry; but do you have the time?'

'Sure.' The guest shrugged and shook his wrist to check his watch, thereby opening his suit jacket slightly revealing... a holstered gun. Percy's mouth went dry and his heart slammed to a standstill before picking up with greater speed. What the hell was going on?

'It's ten o' clock.' The guest informed him.

'Thanks.' Percy managed and continued down the hallway, praying that his nerves would hold. He neared 2412 and nearly had a coronary. They –whoever they were– were staking out the room... _waiting _for someone to drop something off. He wasn't going to walk into another trap—but what else could he do? Just because he'd managed to fool a high school teacher didn't mean he had it in him to fool professionals.

Another image flashed in front of him: Associate Interviews. Room 2005.

Four floors down. Could he make it? He certainly had to try. Percy walked right past room 2412 and opened the door to the fire escape, trying his very best to not break into a run.

What had Luke gotten him into?

* * *

'Richard Jameson.'

Malcolm called, eyeing the ten people sitting in the outer room without enthusiasm. He'd already decided on what question he'd ask to rattle the interviewee; the only problem was that the interviewee hadn't seemed to have arrived yet.

'Richard Jameson?' Malcolm called again, feeling slightly irritated. Where was the guy? Surely he knew not to be late for a job interview—at Pearson Hardman at that! Malcolm hadn't had a pleasant day; all the people Annabeth had him asked to shake up had failed the test miserably. Most had stuttered at the questions posed, others had become defensive and one guy in particular had simply shut up and said nothing.

So far, Malcolm hadn't been impressed at all. And now he had to deal with a missing interviewee. 'Richard Jameson?' He called for the third time, moving his pen to strike the name off the list.

Just as his pen touched the paper, a man appeared, looking slightly flustered. He had black hair, slightly on the longer side and his suit was nowhere near as fancy as the other job hopefuls. In his hand, he carried a briefcase whose clasp Malcolm noticed, had come undone.

'Richard Jameson?' Malcolm questioned.

The man turned at the sound and looked around confusedly.

Malcolm wanted to throw something at him. Really; who all was Harvard accepting these days? Idiots who couldn't even remember their own names? 'Excuse me, Mr. Jameson? You're two minutes late for your interview—is there any reason why I should let you in?'

The man looked around again and stepped near Malcolm's desk hesitantly. 'Look,' he said glancing over his shoulder, 'I'm just trying to ditch the guys with guns, okay? I don't really care if you let me in or not.'

It was, Malcolm decided, the best answer he'd ever gotten. In fact, he had a strange urge to laugh. The whole thing had been pulled beautifully. Annabeth was going to love this guy.

Malcolm turned and looked through the door where his boss was toying with her phone disinterestedly. He caught her eye and gave her a very exaggerated wink.

Suddenly, Annabeth didn't look so bored. She raised her eyebrows and stood up.

Malcolm turned back to Richard Jameson. 'Miss Chase will see you now. You may go right in.'

Jameson still continued to look like he'd just been thrown into outer space, 'what?'

'Can I get you anything?' Malcolm asked, deciding he quite liked this fellow. He could count on his fingertips the number of people who'd managed to surprise him and he had to admit, Jameson was the only guy who'd made the list in the last five years. 'Water, coffee, maybe?'

* * *

Annabeth watched the guy Malcolm had deemed fit enough for a proper interview, enter the room. From the outside, he didn't look like much. Twenties, she guessed. Looked slightly older than the rest but other than that didn't really stand out. Aside from the suit, she noticed, the suit was really quite distasteful.

'Hi,' the guy said holding out his hand, 'I'm, uh, Rick Jameson. Nice to meet you.'

'Annabeth Chase.' Annabeth shook the hand, noting with approval that he had a strong grip. Jameson was as tall as her and had bright green eyes which were darting all around the room with urgency. His black hair had fallen around his eyes with disarray.

'Please; take a seat.' Annabeth gestured to the empty chair and rounded the table. Jameson complied instantly and as he moved to the chair, his briefcase hit the table with a whack, spilling its contents to the floor.

Annabeth looked at the carpet with interest. She couldn't remember the last time somebody had dropped, what looked like, a kilo of weed in front of her. In fact, she couldn't remember if such a thing had _ever _happened in front of her.

'Well,' she said looking at the man in the room who looked like he'd just had a stroke, 'what's this?'

* * *

'How the _hell _did you know they were staking out that room?'

Annabeth had forgotten all about the fact that she had twenty other people to interview. This guy –this Percy Jackson fellow– had managed to hold her interest for the past half an hour, something which even her boss couldn't do every day. His story was so fascinating, bordering completely on unbelievable that she couldn't resist asking more questions.

Jackson looked vaguely superior. 'I read this novel in Elementary School... and it was the exact same thing.'

Annabeth wondered if she was losing her hearing. 'You read a novel?' She repeated, 'in _Elementary School?_' Woah, this guy was just getting out of hand.

'What?' Jackson shrugged, 'I like to read.'

Annabeth almost wanted to call out to Malcolm so that he too could get a load of this guy. It was one thing surprising an interviewer; it was completely another drawing out the charade forever. There was such a thing as an expiry date.

'And why did you ask the guy what time it was?' She asked, figuring that she could play along just a little while longer.

Jackson drummed his fingers on the table. 'To throw them off. I mean what drug dealer asks a guy the time when he has a gun?'

It was a pretty logical response. And even though Annabeth didn't want to believe the story, the bag full of pot which had so recently been on her floor pretty much told her that the Jackson was either mad enough to risk jail time to get a job, or was just really at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, he was better than those twenty other idiots waiting for her outside.

'We should hire you.' Annabeth leaned back in her chair, 'Jesus—I'd give you the twenty five grand as a signing bonus.'

Suddenly, Jackson looked very interested. 'I'll take it!'

Annabeth cocked her head to one side, thinking: _nice try_. Aloud, she said, 'unfortunately; we only hire from Harvard. And you not only did not go to Harvard Law School... you didn't go to _any _Law School.'

There was a minute of silence as Jackson took that in. Forlornly, Annabeth began thinking about the other drips waiting for her outside. Just imagining the interviews with them gave her a headache. Surely, even Senior Partner wasn't worth this torture.

'What if I told you,' Jackson said suddenly, 'that I consume knowledge faster than _anyone _you've ever met and I've actually passed the Bar?'

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, not impressed. 'I'd say you're full of shit.'

Jackson didn't look defeated. Instead his green eyes lit up with a hint of challenge. He gestured to the table. 'That's a Barbary Legal Handbook right there? Open it up.'

Annabeth didn't like the fact that he'd just ordered her to do something but something in his voice compelled her to reach for the book.

'Read me something.' Jackson said, 'anything.'

Deciding that she had five more minutes to waste, Annabeth flipped open the book and settled on a page, her eyes automatically rising to the top line. 'Civil liability,' she began, feeling the stirrings of boredom set in, 'associated with agency is based on...'

'... several factors: including the deviation of the agent from his path...' Jackson continued, matching her tone perfectly as he recited the lines word for word from the book, '...reasonable interference from the agency on behalf of the plaintive and nature of the damages themselves.'

For the first time in her career, Annabeth was speechless.

'How did you know that?' She finally found her voice.

Jackson stared at her, his green eyes holding her captive for the moment. 'I learned it. When I studied. For the Bar.'

The smugness in his tone jarred Annabeth back to reality. This was _her _territory. _Nobody_ beat her in her own territory. Certainly not some fresh, dewy eyed guy who looked at least five years younger than her.

'Okay hotshot,' she said shutting her book with a snap, 'fire up this laptop.' She got up and Jackson rose to his feet hurriedly.

'I'm going to show you...' Annabeth said coolly, 'what a Harvard _attorney _can do. Pick a topic.'

Dutifully Jackson traded places with her clicked on a few keys before saying, 'stock option backdating.'

Annabeth smiled. It was almost too easy. Even though financial law wasn't her forte (that was more of Triton's area) she still knew way more than the kid in front of her. 'Although backdating options is legal, violations arise relating to disclosures under IRC, Section 409 A.'

Jackson pursed his lips, 'you forgot about Sarbanes Oxley.'

The guy was really annoying her, Annabeth decided. And his comment only proved how much he didn't know. 'Statue of Limitation's renders Sarbanes Oxley moot, post 2007.'

'Well, not if you can find actions that cover up the violations,' Jackson shot back, 'as established in the sixth circuit in May 2008.'

Silence reigned in the room as Jackson glanced up at her, waiting for her to say something. Annabeth examined him, wondering what she was going to do with this guy.

'That's impressive,' she finally conceded, 'but you're sitting at the computer.'

In answer, he turned the machine around; showing her what was on the screen. 'I was playing Hearts,' he said as she was once more robbed of words, 'sorry, if you want to beat me; you're going to have to do it at something else.' There was not a hint of arrogance in his tone—he seemed genuinely apologetic.

Annabeth had never felt so insulted and yet so amazed at the same time. 'How can you know all that?' She repeated, wondering if this was some sort of involved day dream of hers and that she'd actually phased out when listening to some other idiot from Harvard prattle on about nothing.

'I told you,' Jackson looked at her as though it was obvious, 'I like to read. And once I read something, I understand it. And once I understand it...' He paused a beat and then shrugged, 'I never forget it.'

Photographic Memory, Annabeth realized. That made everything so much clearer. But it also made everything so much more confusing. She settled on the first question that occurred to her, 'why take the Bar?'

Jackson hesitated and looked away, 'an idiot bet me that I couldn't pass it without going to Law School.'

He was lying: she knew immediately. For somebody so intelligent, he had terrible control over his body language. But that also meant that he hadn't lied all the way up till now. Still, it didn't help her in any way.

'Okay, look,' she said finally, aware that real life was awaiting her, 'this is all pretty fascinating stuff—but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work.'

She smiled sadly at his gloomy expression and turned away, heading for the door, 'I'll make sure your friends aren't outside.' Annabeth opened the door and glanced outside, ignoring Malcolm's questioning glance. Nobody who was capable of toting a gun was anywhere near the corridor; Jackson was pretty much safe to leave.

Instead, her gaze fell on the twenty imbeciles sitting around patiently. Her lip curled in disgust as she took them in—not _one _of them, she knew, had the skills to live up to her mentorship whereas the guy inside, with no real education, was a whole bag of possibilities.

A rebel idea took hold of her mind and Annabeth couldn't help but think about it. Closing the door, she turned back to Jackson who was staring dejectedly at the table's surface.

'If you want this job so much,' she said, startling him, 'why didn't you just go to Law School?'

Jackson bit his lip and visibly slumped in his seat, obviously going through an internal struggle about how to answer. Annabeth waited patiently; the guy in front of her might know how to read books, but she knew how to read people. And this time, she wasn't going to let him lie again.

'When I was in High school,' Jackson said, finally meeting her gaze, 'it was my _dream _to become a lawyer.' He stopped and swallowed as though fighting down an emotion, 'but I needed money and my friend, Luke, convinced me to memorize a Math test and sell it for a few extra bucks.'

Annabeth didn't say anything; letting the silence work its magic.

'Turns out,' Jackson's tone turned bitter, 'we sold it to the Principal's _daughter_. I lost my scholarship; I got kicked out of school... I—' he pressed his fingertips to his temples, suddenly looking much older, 'I got knocked into a different _life. _And I have been wishing for a way back, ever since.'

Annabeth considered the story. It was believable enough but if she wanted to go ahead with her insane idea; she needed to set a few things straight. She didn't run a charity, and she sure as hell didn't pick up strays because of a sob story.

'Let me tell you something,' she said quietly, 'this isn't _Elementary School. _This is hard work.' she gazed at Jackson, watching with approval as he straightened up, hope burning brightly in his eyes.

'Long hours.' Annabeth continued, 'high pressure. I need a grown man.'

Jackson rose from the seat, his eyes shining with fervour. 'You give me this?' He stated, conviction strengthening his voice, 'and I will work as hard as any of those Harvard douches to become the _best _lawyer you have ever seen.'

It was inspiring speech, Annabeth thought dryly. However, there was one more thing to be said aloud.

'I'm inclined to give you a shot,' she admitted, 'but what if I decide to go a different way?'

Jackson was silent for a moment, and then he shrugged. 'I'd say that's fair. You know,' his tone turned teasing, 'sometimes I too like to hang out with people who aren't that bright. Just to see how the other half lives.'

Annabeth almost smiled. There was something about this guy, she realized, something she hadn't seen in anyone for a very long time. He was earnest and sincere, maybe a little naive but definitely good enough material for her mentorship. That and the fact that she wouldn't have to suffer anymore idiot interviews helped make her decision.

'Move over,' she said authoritatively and Jackson all but jumped out of the chair, 'I'm e-mailing the firm that we found our next associate.'

The disbelief on Jackson's face was so incredible that Annabeth _did _smile as she sat down. Opening the browser, she ran through the things which were going to have to be done to make the ruse work.

'All right,' she said, not taking her eyes of the screen, 'you start a week from now. Here's what you're gonna do.'

Annabeth paused and looked up to find that she had Jackson's complete attention, 'first: no more pot; the firm has a mandatory drug test.'

Jackson opened his mouth to protest, no doubt to tell her that he _didn't _do drugs, but Annabeth couldn't care less. 'Save it,' she advised him and began typing rapidly, 'second: you're never talking to that guy Luke again. He's obviously bad news. Third: ditch the briefcase before someone catches you with it.'

Finished with the e-mail, she hit SEND and leaned back in her chair, surveying the guy in front of her, 'fourth: you're going to get on a plane to Harvard and learn _everything _there is to know about going to Law School.'

Annabeth's mouth wrinkled in distaste as she looked at Jackson's clothes. 'Lastly: did you buy that suit?'

Jackson looked puzzled, 'uh, yeah?'

She sighed and thought about all the work that lay in front of her, 'get some new ones before you come into work on Monday.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT THREE: INFORMATION.**

The alarm rang, shattering the morning peacefulness of Percy's apartment. He groaned, turned around in his bed and burrowed deeper into the sheets. For a minute he just lay there, wishing his phone wasn't so far away until sudden realization struck him: It was Monday. He had to go to work.

Sitting bolt upright, he turned off the alarm and squinted at the glowing numbers. Jesus, he thought to himself, why the hell did he have to get to office so _early?_ He was used to waking up at like, two on a weekday. Six thirty was simply outlandish. Sighing, he glanced at his phone again and noticed with a pang that he had another dozen missed calls from Luke.

Luke had been trying to contact him all week, but Percy had done as Annaebth instructed and hadn't returned the calls. He wasn't sure _why _he felt the need to follow Annabeth's instructions, particularly when she had no way of finding out if he lied, but there was just something about his new boss that... intimidated him a little.

When he'd first met her, the only thought he'd had for the first minute before his briefcase had popped open was that she'd had to be the most glamorous woman he'd ever met. Percy knew she was older than him –he hazarded around five years– but she could pass off as his age easily.

Then the interview had begun and even though she'd made it clear that she had no particular love for him, he only felt himself getting further enraptured. Smart women, had always been a major turn on for him and Annabeth Chase was freaking genius compared to the girls he'd dated.

Too bad she was his boss; he thought tiredly and headed to the bathroom. Otherwise, there might have been some real possibilities.

* * *

It took Percy all of two minutes to fall in love with Pearson Hardman. All the way from just viewing the building from the outside (how many floors were _there _to it?) to riding the express elevators, and then on to the receptionist who hadn't given him a second of her day—everything about it just spoke of sheer awesomeness.

He stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in awe, taking in the amazing spectacle of New York City below him. His father would be so proud; Percy thought suddenly, he was at a _Law _firm, working as a real _lawyer. _How much luckier could he get?

'Percy Jackson?' Some called out behind him and he turned around, staring transfixed at the person standing in front of him. Okay, clearly, he _could _get luckier.

The woman in front of him was dazzling. She had red hair, which looked a little frizzy around the edges and bright green eyes—kinda like his, except maybe a shade lighter. Her power suit was superbly cut, accentuating her figure without giving too much away. She had an interesting mouth, the kind that could quirk into a grin or bend into a frown at a moment's notice.

'I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare,' she said in a no-nonsense tone, 'I'll be giving you your orientation.'

Percy had no idea what to say, so as usual, his mouth took over for him. Woah.' He blinked, steadying himself, 'you're pretty.'

Rachel frowned, her eyes turning cold. 'Good,' she said in clipped tones, 'you've hit on me. We can now get it out of the way that I'm _not _interested.'

Horrified that he'd made such a cardinal mistake, Percy began to backtrack immediately, 'I'm sorry; I wasn't—I wasn't hitting on you—'

'Trust me.' Rachel interrupted, 'I've done _dozens _of these and without fail every new hotshot associate thinks that just because I'm a lowly paralegal—I'll be _blown _away by his dazzling degree.' She paused and continued blandly, 'let me assure you: I won't.'

For the second time in as many minutes, Percy had no idea what to say. Thankfully, his brain seemed to react faster because once again his mouth began moving.

'I was.' He admitted, nodding, 'I was hitting on you.'

'You were.' Rachel agreed, handing him a notepad and pen, 'take notes: I'm not going to repeat myself.'

And with that she whirled around and began walking away, her heels echoing on the marble floor. Percy stared at her for a moment before shaking himself out of the daze and following her. Inside however all he could think was that he was completely head over heels for Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

'The firm operates on a distinct chain of command,' Rachel said, not bothering to check if Percy was keeping up or not—something which made him love her even more, 'Annabeth is your commanding officer, but Triton Gray manages the associates; so you'll answer to him as well.'

'What d'you think of Annabeth?' Percy asked, glad that he'd finally got around to stop acting like an idiot.

Rachel seemed surprised by the question. Clearly nobody had asked her that before. 'People are in awe of her,' she said finally, 'they say Annabeth Chase is the best closer in the city—but I have very little contact with her so I don't know.'

'What about Triton Gray?' Percy pressed, and had the pleasure of seeing Rachel frown again.

She was silent for a moment –which led him to believe that she was thinking of an appropriate answer– but then she shrugged, giving him a polite smile. 'Let's just continue with your tour.'

* * *

Annabeth walked down the hallway to her office and couldn't help the smile on her face. There was something about being Senior Partner that just agreed completely with her. In her hand, she held her coffee (her second of the day) and mused internally about the man she'd turned down the night before: Ray Johnson. He was older –much older than her, almost Chiron's age– but that hadn't been the reason Annabeth had said no. Not sleeping with married men was just one of her principles.

So lost was she in her thoughts that it took her a second to realize that some _guy _was standing outside her office door, working on the title embossed on the glass.

'Excuse me,' she said, striving for a polite tone because _really _she didn't approve of people hovering outside her space, unless they were clients (or Malcolm) 'but why are you scratching the "Senior" off my door?'

The guy didn't turn around. 'I got an order to take it off.'

Faintly annoyed, but still determined to be polite, Annabeth tried again. 'And _who _issued this order?'

'My supervisor.'

Annabeth took a sip of coffee to calm herself down. Either this guy had an IQ of a snail or he was purposely trying to piss her off. After a moment, she suspected it to be the latter.

'And _why_ did he issue that order to you?'

'If I knew that I'd be _his _supervisor.' The guy said, still not bothering to turn around. Annabeth raised her eyebrows, not sure whether this was some elaborate joke Triton had cooked up or something more serious was underfoot. There was only one person who would know without a shadow of doubt.

'Malcolm,' she called a tad plaintively once she realized that her assistant wasn't at his desk, 'someone's trying to have a little fun with me here.'

Miraculously, Malcolm appeared out of nowhere. He took her coffee and the files she was holding with practiced ease and set them down at his workstation, 'Chiron wants to see you in his office.'

Malcolm waited a beat and then added, 'now!'

* * *

'And finally... _this _is where you live.'

Percy couldn't help but feel a little let down as he looked at what Rachel was pointing at: a depressing, bite sized, cubicle. Not something his father had worked at, he thought, because even though his father had died when he was eleven, Percy remembered his office to be large and filled with expensive furniture and paintings.

'Wow.' He muttered, dropping the bag he'd strapped around his chest into the chair, along with the notepad and pencil.

Rachel stared at him coolly and pointed to the booklet. 'I gave you that for a reason—and you haven't taken even one note.'

Startled, Percy tried his best to explain, 'that's because—'

'Because you were too busy ogling me to listen to a word I've said?' Rachel finished, anger flaring in her eyes. Percy faltered, trying to find a suitable justification but instead experienced the usual brain-to-mouth disconnect once more. The words began flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them.

'Partners' offices take up the wings,' he began, pulling the information easily from the back of his head, 'Fifth floor is research, sixth is security. All work gets billed—even if it's finding an address.'

He stopped, gathering confidence at Rachel's slightly stunned expression before continuing, 'I answer to Annabeth and Triton Gray... and judging by your answers; I should admire Annabeth and I should fear Triton.'

Percy took a deep breath, preparing himself to deliver the smoking gun, 'you've been here five years and just because I outrank you doesn't mean I have the right to command your services.'

He blew out his cheeks and gazed at her, genuine sympathy colouring his tone. 'Oh and it's also pretty clear that you think you're too smart to be a paralegal.'

Rachel didn't look stunned anymore. Instead, she looked positively disgusted. 'You know what nobody likes?'

Percy felt his spirits sink.

'Nobody likes a smartass. Enjoy your day.'

With another ice cold smile, she turned and headed back the way they'd come, leaving Percy feeling worse than ever.

'You used the word "ogle!"' He tried, sounding a little defensive but she was too far away for him to hear, 'and hey—when do I get to see Annabeth?'

* * *

'Gerald Tate fired the firm.'

Annabeth rolled her eyes, as Chiron addressed her calmly, glancing through some paperwork on his desk. So _this _was why some idiot from maintenance had scratched the beautiful handiwork off her door. And there she'd been hoping that it was some stupid prank of Triton's.

'So you've taken my promotion away?' Annabeth asked, confirming her worst fears.

Chiron looked up from the paperwork as though the fact that they were still discussing the issue amazed him completely. 'Most firms would have your license stripped. You _lied _to a client and he figured it out!'

Annabeth couldn't believe her ears. 'I lied to him to make him honour his contract,' she paused and then added accusingly, 'and _you _didn't seem to mind so much when you thought I got away with it.'

'But you didn't.' Chiron said slowly, flipping the pages in front of him, 'and I can't justify handing you a promotion on the same day you lose a huge client.'

'One client does not make a firm!' Annabeth protested.

Chiron sighed and fixed Annabeth with a steady look which told her that she was treading dangerous waters. 'I don't know if you've noticed,' her boss said quietly, 'but we're in the middle of an economic meltdown and companies aren't lining up to spend money on attorneys right now.'

Annabeth gritted her teeth but said nothing. She didn't have much of an argument anyway and she was a little grateful that Chiron hadn't thrown her to the wolves—the man was ferocious when it came to losing clients. She counted herself lucky that she'd gotten away with such a small punishment—even if it hurt like hell.

'And Gerald might have forgiven the lying,' Chiron continued mildly, 'if you hadn't _humiliated _him. But you did. And you need to accept that.'

Annabeth gazed out of the window, wanting more than anything to punch Mr. Dumb- As- A- Rock- Tate in the face, multiple times. So what if she'd humiliated him? Tate had deserved it as much as she deserved Senior Partner.

'And now, Annabeth,' Chiron's gaze turned a little steely, 'no more shenanigans please. I want you riding the straight and narrow.'

Pissed off, Annabeth rolled her eyes once more and headed for the door. Just as she was about to step out, Chiron called out, stopping her once more.

'If I find out that you're out of line again; you won't leave my office through the door. You'll be using the window.'

Though the threat was in no way literally possible, Annabeth got the message. Chiron was quite obviously, very annoyed about losing Tate because he'd never been more unequivocal in a reprimand.

Her boss had been confined to a wheel chair for more than three decades, but even so, Annabeth had to admit as she headed back to her own office, that her still possessed the capability to scare the shit out of her.

* * *

'Jackson.'

Annabeth glared at the man who was playing with the things on her desk as she entered her office. He'd cut his hair, she noted, which showed her that the guy did possess a little initiative at least. Too bad, the entire arrangement had to be dissolved; she'd looked forward to see how far she could push the Boy Wonder.

'Hey!' Jackson's smile was wide and disarming. 'Who's ready for a good first day?'

Annabeth sighed and picked up the files Malcolm had left on the desk for her. This was not turning out to be a good day. 'I have to let you go.'

'_What?_'

Looking at Jackson's bewildered face, Annabeth almost felt a little guilty. Almost. 'I just got reamed by my boss for lying to a client,' she explained, already disengaging from the conversation by starting to read through the work for the day, 'he'll fire me if he finds out that I lied about you going to Harvard Law.'

The intercom buzzed in the silence. 'You did what?!' Malcolm's outraged squawk filled the still air.

Annoyed, Annabeth waved at her assistant through the glass door. 'Not now Malcolm!'

'Look,' she said, turning back to Jackson, once she'd finished glaring at her assistant, 'I have to put my own interests above yours. It's nothing personal. You're fired.'

Jackson was at a complete loss of words so Annabeth sat down in her chair and began taking notes, referring to the files she held occasionally. At least she had a good case to sink her teeth into, she consoled herself, and nothing beat closing a deal in record time.

'Wait...' Jackson stuttered, 'you're telling me that if I stay, your boss might find out that you lied about me going to Harvard and then he'll fire you?'

Annoyed, Annabeth didn't answer. Hadn't she just said as much? She'd thought he was smart. In hindsight, Chiron might have just done her a favour—she didn't have time to mentor idiots. And even geniuses could be idiots; she should have known not to let herself get dazzled by some good memory skills.

'...but if you _fire _me, then I could _tell _you boss that you lied about me and then he'll _definitely_ fire you.' Jackson shrugged, his eyes glinting rather innocently.

Annabeth stared at the man in front of her for a few seconds. How was it that Percy Jackson was still surprising her? She'd learned early in life to never underestimate anyone but she'd committed the same mistake with the same person twice in a row. Something was definitely wrong with her radar.

'Are you saying,' she asked dangerously, 'that if I throw you under the bus you'll take me with you?'

At her tone, Jackson lost some of his earlier bravado. 'I'm just—you put your interests above mine... I'm just putting them right back up... next to yours.'

Annabeth contemplated the words for a few seconds and then smiled. Apparently, Percy Jackson could teach her a thing or two. She didn't have to like it—but if it meant getting back her "Senior Partner" tag; she was prepared to be a little humble once in a while.

'You're rehired.'

She stated and then headed for the door. Ignoring Percy's startled "thank-yous," she nodded at Malcolm and power walked down the hallway. She had some big time bargaining to do.

* * *

'Here's what's going to happen,' Annabeth announced, re-entering Chiron's office without bothering to check with him or his assistant to see if he was free to see her, 'you're going to make me Senior Partner again and that's the last that we're going to talk about this.'

Chiron's expression was dangerously polite when he looked up from his papers. 'And why would I do that?'

Normally, that would have signal enough for Annabeth to back off immediately, but now, she had a very solid argument in her arsenal. 'Because if you don't,' she looked Chiron right in the eye, 'I'm going to go across town and join Kane and Abbot—and I'm going to take_ all_ my clients with me.'

Chiron thought over her words. 'You do that and you'll force me to put you in front of the ethics board.'

Annabeth grinned, 'I don't think you'll do that.'

'And why not?'

'Because you were obligated to notify them the _second_ I lied to Gerald Tate—but you didn't.' Annabeth clarified, trying her hardest not to sound too self-righteous, 'you put me in front of the board and I'll put you right up there with me.'

Chiron surveyed her for a whole minute, his face completely expressionless. Annabeth stared right back at him, not intimidated in the least—or well, only slightly intimidated. Still, she _knew _her mentor. He might have been ruthless Captain of his ship, but even he enjoyed a good, clean, argument once in a while.

Finally, the glimmer of a smile graced Chiron's mouth. 'Okay. I'll give you your promotion—'

Annabeth resisted the urge to pump her fist into the air.

'—but you're going to have to do something for me.' He finished, raising an eyebrow, waiting for her to agree to the deal.

Normally, Annabeth would have been very suspicious of the cave-in because Charles "Chiron" Pearson never, ever lost an argument without gaining something in return, but embolden by her success, she spoke without thinking.

'Anything.'

Chiron smiled wickedly. 'Good.' He held up the papers he'd been poring over, 'I need you to do some Pro Bono.'

'Anything but _that_!' Annabeth exclaimed, retreating as though the distance she put between her boss and herself would help negate the order. She _hated _Pro Bono work more than she hated Triton—and that was saying a lot. Somehow, she just couldn't see the point of doing all the hard work without getting paid for it.

'Annabeth!' Chiron called, locking her with his steely gaze, 'Pro Bono cases are a way of showing that we, as a firm, care about more than just ourselves...'

'Hey—I'm not saying _we _shouldn't do them.' Annabeth pointed out, 'I'm just saying _I _shouldn't do them.'

'...and it's a way for you to show me that you care about more than just yourself.' Chiron finished, not sidetracked in the least. 'You will handle this yourself: and you will _not _pass it off.'

Annabeth stared at her boss and thought about his words carefully. What was it with people giving her ideas today? It was obviously something in the air. Still; she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth as she edged closer and reluctantly accepted the file. Over the top of it, she nodded reluctantly at Chiron.

'You have yourself a deal.'

* * *

'Your first case.'

Percy looked up from the baseball collection he'd been admiring as his boss walked back into the office and chucked a file at him. Buzzing with elation at her words (seriously, his own case, already? It totally made up for the crap cubicle), he caught the papers and stared at Annabeth in wonderment.

'Awesome.' He gazed at his boss with new admiration. Honestly the way she was going, he was going to pledge his fealty to her one day. 'What's it about?'

'Pro Bono.' Annabeth said dismissively as she returned to her chair. 'Sexual harassment. Don't tell anyone I laid it off on you—and _don't _screw it up.'

'Got it.' Percy grinned, flipping through the pages. 'You can't handle it; I'll knock it out of the park.'

Annabeth didn't look impressed by his baseball reference, 'easy there tiger. Just go meet the client, okay?'

Shrugging, Percy headed for the door. This was turning out _way_ better than he'd hoped for. So his quick thinking had paid off immensely for someone as high up as Annabeth to be able to trust him with his _own _case. He was definitely going to win this one hands down.

'And hey!'

Percy turned at Annabeth's call. She was frowning at him. 'Didn't I tell you to get some new suits?'

Baffled, Percy glanced down at his clothes. He couldn't tell what was wrong with them—they seemed pretty top notch to him. 'I did.' He said, spreading his hands to show that he was completely lost, 'I spent like five hundred dollars on them!'

'How many?' Annabeth asked, suspiciously.

'Uh, five?' Percy answered hesitantly. If he was still wondering about that the right answer to the question was—he got his answer soon enough. Annabeth looked like she'd just heard news about the plague.

'Get out.' She shook her head.

'Wha—?' Percy looked at her, 'Where am I wrong?'

'Out.' Annabeth called, turning her attention away from him definitively.

'Okay...!' He held up his hands in surrender as he stepped out, 'er—thanks for the case?' He tried a last ditch effort but Annabeth had already lost interest in him. Feeling stupid for the first time in his life, Percy headed back to his station, already deciding to focus on the case. If he couldn't impress Annabeth with his clothes selection; he was going to do it with his mind.

* * *

Percy handed over the money to the vendor and accepted the hot dog in return with a mumbled thanks. He glanced up at the imposing Pearson Hardman building—and wondered if Annabeth was going to show up at all. He'd asked her for some pointers but she hadn't sounded too enthusiastic so he didn't know if he had to give up and go upstairs of show grit and stay right where he was supposed to be.

Unable to decide, Percy began thinking about his case.

Katie Gardiner was twenty-nine years old, a widowed mother to a child of five. Her husband had died in a car accident (drunk driver; not his fault) a year after her son (Riley) had been born. Katie had had to scrounge around, working odd jobs till she finally managed to take a secretarial course, which had subsequently enabled her to become an assistant to Dwayne and McGregor's CEO: Eric Dwayne.

Two months into the job, and the harassment had started. Eric Dwayne had started off with simple requests: to have dinner with him, stay later at nights, do personal favours for him—all textbook sexual predatory behaviour. Katie resisted each advance and made it amply clear that she wasn't even remotely interested.

Then, one night Dwayne called her into his office and gave her an ultimatum: either Katie slept with him or she was out of a job.

Katie, like any other sane employee, went to HR to file a complaint but the impending investigation didn't turn anything up and she'd been fired a week later, without severance pay, or any recommendations, for poor job performance.

It made Percy sick to the stomach when he thought about her plight. Already, he had a burning desire to the wipe the floor with Eric Dwayne's face but there were many problems to the lawsuit and Percy wasn't sure that he knew the best way of achieving the desirable outcome without screwing things up.

'Hey.' Annabeth appeared at his right and swiped the hot dog out of his hands before he had a chance to react, 'what do you need my help for?'

'Wait—' Percy tried to grab his food back but she swatted his hand away, 'can I get my food back?'

'No.' Annabeth said simply and began striding down the steps purposefully, forcing him to let go of any hopes of getting some more food, and resigning himself to following her.

'Give me an update.' She ordered, as he fell into step beside her.

'Uh,' Percy tried to collate all the facts together in his head as quickly as he could, 'you know—she's a nice woman. She, uh—'

'On the _case._' Annabeth interrupted, not bothering to even glance his way. 'I don't get emotionally attached to the client.'

Percy raised an eyebrow. Seriously? This was a sexual harassment case. How was not getting emotionally attached even an option? 'This woman had her _life _ripped apart...' he said hesitantly, 'and you don't even care?'

Annabeth finally looked at him, her expression indifferent. 'I'm not about caring,' she shrugged and took another bite out of her (his) hotdog. 'I'm about winning.'

Percy thought about her words, feeling completely lost as usual, 'why can't you be about both?'

'See; I'd explain it to you,' Annabeth spread her hands, 'but then I'd have to _care_ about you.' She smiled—but there was nothing particularly joyful about it. It seemed more like a smile a cop gave to a criminal before handcuffing him.

'Right...' Percy said slowly. Quite obviously, his boss was a little crazy. But that was okay, since she was Annabeth Chase—the best closer in the city. He shook his head and crossed to the right of the footpath to check on his bike he'd left parked in the morning when he'd arrived.

'What... what the hell are you doing? Don't touch that!' Annabeth's horrified exclamation stopped him in his tracks, his hand nearly touching the lock around the frame.

'I'm just... checking my lock.' Percy said, holding out his hands to show that he wasn't threatening anything.

Annabeth looked baffled. 'You ride your bike to...?' She closed her eyes as though she couldn't accept the sight in front of her. When she opened them again, disbelief was the foremost emotion evident.

'It's locked okay?' She waved him away, 'just—c'mon!'

Percy stared at her, disgruntled, as she climbed back up the steps again, heading towards the Pearson Hardman skyscraper. Okay, he could take shit from her about work, but his mode of transport was _his _and she had no right to look down upon it. Feeling like the kid who'd taken a cookie after being expressively told not to, he threw his hand out and touched the lock, reassuring himself that his bike was secure.

Satisfied, he ran back up the steps and caught up with Annabeth as she walked into the door, flashing her ID at the guard and not bothering to get into line. Deciding to just go along, Percy flashed his ID as well, though he tried to give the helpless guard an apologetic smile. Really, no one seemed to be able to keep up with his boss.

'Defence sent over the investigation files to me out of courtesy—' Percy began, thinking it was high time they got back to the case at hand. Who knew, his boss probably timed him for the minutes he wasted of hers.

'No they didn't.' Annabeth countered, stopping outside one of the elevators and jabbing at the button repeatedly, 'nobody does anything as a courtesy. They sent those files because that's where they _want_ you to look.'

Percy was –as usual– at a loss for words so he decided to just keep his mouth shut and let his boss do the talking.

'Listen,' Annabeth said, speaking to him but looking at her phone, 'being a lawyer is like being a doctor.'

'You mean... like when you don't get emotional about the clients?' Percy hazarded, glad that even if he didn't know squat about lawyerly traditions, he did have an agile enough brain to connect the dots.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, 'No. I mean you keep pressing until it hurts. Then you know where to look.'

Percy bit back a retort to say that was the worst metaphor he'd ever heard and kept his focus on his case. Even if his boss was a little too clinical for his taste, she still knew how to get the job done.

'Forget about impeaching the investigation,' Annabeth continued, tucking her phone away, 'it won't lead anywhere. No employee is going to testify against their own CEO.'

'Okay—so what do _you _suggest I do?' Percy asked, a little annoyed by the fact that she'd dismissed all the work he'd put in up till now. He'd thought it was a brilliant move to request the investigation files but it clearly wasn't good enough for his darling boss.

'Think.' Annabeth raised her eyebrows at him, 'this guy's done it once, so...?'

'So he's done it before!' Percy caught on, feeling a little better about himself.

'Exactly,' Annabeth nodded, not looking impressed by his brilliant deduction skills, 'if someone working for him _now _won't testify against him, then—'

'—then someone who worked for him earlier might!' Percy finished, hoping that that at least would earn him some brownie points. It didn't, Annabeth only looked irritated by the fact that he'd interrupted her.

'So I'd subpoena the personnel files of every employee who's worked for this guy in the past ten years.' She finished and looked at him expectantly, 'that way you could actually find something _useful._'

Percy didn't miss the undercurrent in her tone and decided to pull out his prize. Sure; he'd thought that looking through the investigation files would get him places but he hadn't been dumb enough to put all his eggs in one basket.

'That's funny,' he said grinning enormously at his boss as he waved a sheet of paper in front of her, 'because that's _exactly _what I thought when I got a subpoena form.'

Annabeth scowled, 'then why did you ask for my help?'

'Well, uh,' Percy suddenly felt embarrassed as the elevator pinged and the doors opened, 'I don't actually _know _how to fill it out.'

* * *

Percy aimed for Malcolm as he followed Annabeth back to her office. His boss had been completely unhelpful in the filling of the subpoena, claiming he needed to "figure it out on his own" so Percy decided that if he couldn't ask her for help, he'd ask the next best thing.

'Malcolm!' He called to the assistant, who looked up from his desk warily, 'hey—could you, uh, help fill out this subpoena?'

Malcolm raised an eyebrow and stared the offered piece of paper as though it was a disgusting insect. 'Sure Perce; right after I help you wipe your ass with it.'

'Funny.' Percy rolled his eyes as Annabeth stopped at the desk next to him, pulling out a pen to sign a few papers that Malcolm was holding out for her.

'I think it is,' she said seriously, 'considering you should know how to do _both _by now.'

The underlying meaning was clear: he hadn't done enough at Harvard. Percy wanted to protest and say that filling out various and sundry forms had never come up during the orientation but he knew there would be no use to say anything. Annabeth Chase didn't take lightly to excuses.

'Here,' Malcolm shoved something –a business card– into his hand, 'take this.'

'What... is this?' Percy turned the card over and started to read the name written on it, along with the phone numbers listed underneath. They didn't mean anything to him. Maybe the assistant was sending him to a person who could help fill out the subpoena form, Percy thought hopefully.

Annabeth squashed his hopes. 'That's a well known tailor who specializes in suits. Visit him and please, just spend some money.'

Percy threw up his hands in frustration: how everyone's priorities in the firm had become so messed up, he'd never know. He needed help to get a woman to win her sexual harassment case, not pretty clothes to wear.

'What is it with you and the suits?' He questioned Annabeth, a tad childishly, 'how does it matter how much money I spend on _suits_?'

Annabeth regarded him coolly, 'because people _respond _to how well we're dressed, so like it or not: this what you have to do.'

Percy huffed, 'that's _weird, _you're giving me advice? It sounds like you almost _care _about me.'

Annabeth's hand stilled on the papers she was scrawling all over and very deliberately she lifted her gaze to meet Percy's. He wanted to kick himself –his damn brain had disconnected from his mouth again– and he didn't need Malcolm's widened eyes to tell him that he'd come very close to crossing a line in the employer-employee relationship.

'I don't.' Annabeth raised her eyebrows, daring him to argue—a dare he was pretty happy not to take up on.

'But you're a reflection of me,' she continued, her gray eyes boring holes into his, 'and I really care about _me. _So get your skinny tie out of my face and go, get to work.'

Percy sighed. It was barely lunchtime and he was already exhausted. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering about who he was going to hit up on for help and found that his boss was still staring at him expectantly. Muttering something about water, he beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

It took Percy the rest of the day to figure out how to file a subpoena and then actually get the damn form filed. Apparently, the justice system wasn't really helpful when it came to unknown cases, and it was especially unhelpful to the lawyer who was representing the smaller fish.

Percy didn't have to interact with his boss for the rest of the day—which was actually pretty fine with him. He didn't really know what to think of his boss. Annabeth Chase was like a walking whirlwind: she had answers for everything and expected a certain degree of knowledge from him in return—knowledge he didn't possess because, well, he'd never been to Law School.

He didn't understand why she held that against him, considering she'd been the one to hire him knowing he lacked the education. Then again, he hadn't seen Annabeth be even remotely civil to anyone except for maybe Malcolm and Charles Pearson so perhaps her cool behaviour to him was nothing but an ingrained habit.

It still annoyed the hell out of Percy though and as he slung his bag across his shoulder and headed for the elevators as the clocks chimed six times, he began to wonder just how much longer he could keep such a demanding job when he was forever playing catch-up to everyone else.

'Percy. Where're you going?'

At the sound of Rachel's voice, Percy turned half afraid of what the paralegal wanted to do to him now.

'Uh...' He blinked, wondering why his brain always functioned so slowly around pretty woman, 'it's 6 o' clock. I'm going home..?' He made the last bit of the sentence sound like a question, hoping that it would help smooth things over between them if he showed that he was seeking permission from her.

Rachel stopped in front of him, chuckling at his words.

'Okay...' Percy shrugged resignedly, 'what's so funny?'

'You're a first year rookie associate.' Rachel stated, her green eyes alight with humour, 'if you go home before nine in your first week... you aren't going to last a month.'

Percy sighed heavily. Great; even more reasons as to why he wasn't cut out for this job. Honestly he'd been at Pearson Hardman for like eleven hours. Didn't that break the labour laws or something?

'Also,' Rachel continued, showing no signs of sympathizing, 'Triton Gray wants to see you in Conference Room 5.'

Triton Gray: the junior partner who managed the associates. Percy didn't even know what he looked like but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. In a brief period of candidness Malcolm had told him how much Triton was despised within the firm—by both his underlings and his seniors.

Percy rubbed his head and then glanced at Rachel who was examining him with interest.

'What now?'

Rachel pursed her lips and pointed to the front of his shirt. 'That tie is _really _skinny.'

'Oh come on_._' Percy whined as Rachel grinned and walked away. Honestly, in his opinion, Pearson Hardman was filled with a bunch of stuck up snobs who spent more time shopping than doing anything else. Percy couldn't help but wonder if his father had been the same. He resolved to ask his mom the next time he saw her and with a heavy heart directed his steps towards Conference Room 5.

* * *

Percy resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the table and waited patiently for Triton Gray to finish reading through some paperwork. Triton seemed to be of average height (though Percy couldn't really tell since they were sitting down) and had wavy black hair which had been slicked back some sort of hair gel. He had a thin, narrow face and his chin was pointed; a little like Dracula's.

Percy didn't know why, but something about the man made him feel very uncomfortable. Even though Triton hadn't said a word, Percy could tell that this man was a little like a rattlesnake. When wounded, he would attack hard and fast. Slick, sly and dangerous—that was Triton Gray.

So different from Annabeth, Percy thought. Annabeth was cool, calm and collected and she sheathed her daggers till they were needed. Triton on the other hand, exuded full battle mode as though he constantly expected to be attacked. He was prickly, Percy decided, like a hedgehog. Or like a person who'd been bullied far too many times as a kid to be comfortable with his own skin anymore.

'I know you had your orientation from Rachel...' Triton began suddenly, putting his files away, 'but I wanted to give you a special welcome from _me._'

Percy nodded, unsure if he had to start reading between the lines. Triton was smiling creepily at him, fully attempting to be warm and failing miserably.

'Amongst other things,' Triton shrugged modestly, 'I am also known as the disciplinarian of the associates.'

Alarm bells went off in Percy's head. He knew what _disciplinarian _really meant. Triton Gray was obviously the hard-nosed, stuck up, ass kisser who wouldn't tolerate any sort of mistakes from the people that worked under him. Percy didn't know whether to be disgusted or amused. It was so obvious that the guy longed for respect from people and never got it because he was so slimy.

A knock interrupted Percy's train of thought and at Triton's sharp nod, another man entered the conference room, a little hesitantly.

'You wanted to see me?'

Triton nodded and gestured vaguely. 'Percy this is Gary Libsky—Gary is one of our most promising associates from last year.'

Gary shrugged modestly and Percy felt a pang as he shook hands with him. Gary, very obviously, was dressed in an expensive suit which everyone approved of. Percy wondered if Annabeth would ever introduce him with such blatant praise—somehow he sincerely doubted it.

'Gary,' Triton smiled coldly, 'I wanted to ask—have you completed the Canara Bank filing?'

Suddenly, Percy didn't envy Gary Libsky anymore. The guy had turned an interesting colour of ashen grey and was biting his lip, in an attempt to stall. Triton, however, raised his eyebrows and the temperature of the room dropped twenty degrees.

'Um...' Gary shifted on the spot, 'my wife's been ill these past couple of days—so I didn't really get to it.'

'Really?' Triton's tone was like brittle glass. 'This is the _third _time I've had to ask for it.'

Percy stared at the table, hoping that if he didn't make a sound everyone would forget he was in the vicinity. He couldn't imagine the humiliation Gary must have been feeling—being brought up like that in front of a lowly first year associate. Heck, Percy was feeling embarrassed for simply being there.

'I'll get right to it. You'll have it by tonight.' Gary said, almost pleading with assurance.

Triton smiled, doing a 180 degree change in expression. 'Don't bother. You're fired.'

A stunned silence followed his words. Sympathy for Gary flared deep inside Percy, along with horror at the fact that Triton had just _fired _someone in front of him—someone whose only crime had been to hand in a filing a little late. Percy had expected Law firms –especially prestigious ones– to be hard taskmasters but this was just way over the top.

'Y-you can't fire me.' Gary stammered.

'Oh yes I can.' Triton shrugged, looking bored, 'and I just did. Go pack up your things. Don't bother showing your face here again.'

Percy gulped, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. With a slow shuffle, Gary turned around and exited the room, the door shutting softly in his wake.

A heavy silence descended over the room and when Percy eventually looked up, he found Triton smiling creepily again.

'You see how I arranged for you to see that?' Triton looked gleeful.

A sick feeling invaded Percy's insides. Was this some sort of joke? Some guy had just been _fired_: wasn't it at least protocol to look a little solemn? Instead, Triton was practically grinning with joy, as though the whole thing was part of some elaborate plan of his.

'We pay our associates very well, Mr. Jackson.' Triton stared at him, 'and we provide them a whole array of opportunities... but in _return,_' His tone turned ugly and his eyes narrowed dangerously, 'we expect results!'

Percy controlled the urge to get up and walk out of the door.

'Have I made myself clear?' Triton pressed.

Percy sat silently, not knowing what to say. He was used to Annabeth demanding things to be done but Triton was actually threatening him and despite how much Percy thought that Triton was a ridiculous old man, he knew that the junior partner could, and would, fire him if he ever stepped out of line.

Did Percy really want to work in a place where his bosses spent more time worrying about clothes and playing mind games than actually working? Percy wasn't too sure.

'Great,' Triton was back to grinning as he took the silence to be acknowledgement, 'welcome to Pearson Hardman.'

* * *

When Percy opened the door to his apartment he had a very clear idea of what he wanted to do. He wanted to put his bike up on the wall, nuke some food, eat it and collapse into bed as soon as he could. He, therefore, had no intention of cutting ties with his best (and oldest) friend; Luke.

Luke was draped all over his sofa, looking utterly at ease.

'What the hell are you doing?' Percy asked, the festering irritation of his pathetic first day morphing into anger at seeing the man who'd betrayed him.

Luke glanced up, vaguely surprised. 'Watching Sport Centre. Boo ya!'

Percy wasn't amused. He chucked down his keys and rolled his bike towards the opposite wall, where the harness stood, waiting to receive it.

'By the way, why won't you return my phone calls?' Luke called after him.

Percy stopped, forcing himself to breathe deeply. The technique didn't help one bit. His head pounded and he found his hands shaking slightly. He whipped around, narrowing his eyes at Luke's innocent expression.

'You set me up' Percy hissed, 'remember that?'

'You think I _knew _about that?' Luke spread his hands defensively.

Just looking at his expression made Percy want to punch him in the face. Why did this whole situation feel so familiar? Oh, that's right, Percy thought bitterly, because this basically summarised their whole friendship. For nearly two decades Percy had kept taking this shit: he was finally done.

'You know this doesn't even surprise me anymore.' Percy shook his head, 'this is like round 50 of me getting the shaft because _you _didn't know the whole story.'

Luke's expression turned ugly and he stood up, knocking the remote aside. 'You knew there were risks involved ever since you quoted that crap from that book, okay?'

_Freakonomics. _Percy filled in silently.

'You needed money,' Luke continued sounding entirely unapologetic, 'and I came through for you. Like always.'

Percy had had enough. 'I don't care Luke, okay? They had _guns. _They would have shot at me!'

'You think they didn't do that to me too?' Luke argued back, 'I wanted to warn you—they didn't let me!'

Percy felt something snap inside him. 'So you _did _know?' He stated quietly. Of course his Luke knew. He _always _knew. And he always managed to weasel himself out of situations and let Percy take the fall for it. It had happened in the third grade and it had happened at High School. Nothing changed.

'Look,' Luke sighed, 'I'm sorry. Just—let me make it up to you.'

'You wanted to make it up to me?' Percy repeated incredulously, 'how about you give me my damn key back?'

A little silence followed his words. Percy was aware that for the first time in all the years that Luke and he had been friends; he hadn't backed down and just accepted Luke's explanation. And suddenly, he realized, he didn't feel bad about it. This had been coming a long time... Percy just felt incredibly relieved.

'Perseus,' Luke's expression turned pleading, 'c'mon man, I don't want to live in a world where we aren't tight.'

Saying his full name had absolutely no effect on Percy. All he wanted was to crawl into bed. He didn't have time for any more arguments.

'Then I suggest you kill yourself,' Percy offered, crossing the apartment so he could yank open the front door, 'now get out.'

Luke didn't move.

'I said get the hell, out!'

Percy yelled, finally letting all his feelings of frustration and anger into his words. Twenty years he'd wasted, doing all he could so that his _best _friend stayed out of trouble. It was time to cut him loose.

Luke flinched at the venom in his tone but got up anyway. Silently, he dropped the keys on to the table and left the apartment.

Percy slammed the door shut with an air of finality.

He stood there for a whole minute, letting the events of the day catch up with him and then moved to the couch, intent on just curling up and going to sleep. Halfway there, something occurred to him and he bolted across the floor, heading for his bedroom.

Once inside, he yanked open his cupboard and rummaged through his clothes, nearly crying with relief when he found the briefcase filled with weed. So Luke _hadn't_ taken it, thank god for that. Percy clung to the case with an almost irrational obsession. The weed was his way out if things with Pearson Hardman ever went south—something he was pretty sure would happen soon enough.

Collapsing on to his bed, he promised himself that he'd give it another day at least. For his mother's sake, if nothing else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT FOUR: INERTIA.**

Annabeth stopped at her assistant's office, her mind running a mile a minute. There were so many things she had to complete by the end of the day. The Kalen Minog case had finally accepted her negotiation offer and the divorce proceedings for her very guilty of cheating on his wife client (name withheld) had taken a turn for the better. Plus, she still had John Dockery to close.

'Malcolm,' she called when she was still a good two feet away, 'I need the—'

Her assistant held out an envelope without taking his eyes off the screen in front of him.

'Thanks,' Annabeth smiled, 'I also haven't had a chance to—'

Malcolm reached over and picked up a Styrofoam coffee mug which he held out for her, still not looking away from the thing which had caught his interest on the screen in front of him.

Annabeth grinned. If there was one person she couldn't function without: it was her assistant. She vowed to thank god (or the universe since she was an atheist) for letting her have such a goldmine working for her. Malcolm Castle was capable enough to work for the President of the United States. It was a miracle indeed that he'd decided to stick with her for so long.

'Marry me?' Annabeth asked, teasingly.

Malcolm chuckled, finally looking at her. 'I took care of that,' he winked, 'we've been married for the last seven years.'

Annabeth laughed and gave him a parting wave before heading back towards the elevators. Despite her insistence, her cheating client had wanted the proceedings to take place in his home, away from prying eyes. Annabeth had taken the change in venue in her stride, since she knew that either way; she was still winning the deal.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and Jackson appeared at her elbow, looking slightly flustered.

'Dwayne and McGregor are fighting the subpoena,' Jackson said breathlessly, 'they filed a motion to dismiss the case based on the lack of evidence.'

Annabeth took a sip of her coffee, and raised an eyebrow at her associate. Why did he look so scared? This was exactly what she'd hoped for.

'Good.' She checked her watch, making sure she wasn't running late.

'Good?' Jackson looked like a deer caught in headlights, 'how is that good?'

'They don't want to hand over the files,' Annabeth rolled her eyes, wishing that she didn't have to explain every little thing to the man in front of her, 'that means we're looking at the right place.'

She stopped in front of the elevators and jabbed at the button before turning to appraise her associate. 'Did you think they wouldn't fight back?'

'Well... I—' Jackson suddenly seemed very interested in his shoes, 'now that you mention it... er, no.' He finished, guilt evident in his tone.

Annabeth took another sip of coffee to help her mood. For a guy who was incredibly intelligent, Percy Jackson's nativity was off the charts. She wondered how he'd survived so far in the world—especially in a city like New York.

'The idea is,' Annabeth said, resigning herself to spelling it out, 'that you make a move and they make a move. You go back and forth till one of you wins.'

Jackson flinched at the condescension but gazed at worriedly. 'Okay—but what happens if they _win _the motion and the case gets dismissed?'

Annabeth shrugged, not really seeing the point of the question posed to her. 'It means you aren't as good as you thought you were. Now,' she checked her watch deliberately, 'you need me to answer any other stupid questions of yours?'

Jackson rolled his eyes, but got the message and retraced his steps, leaving Annabeth blissfully alone... till a motorized wheelchair drove right up to her, distracting her from her thoughts about her divorce proceedings.

'Annabeth,' Chiron smiled warmly up at her, 'how's your Pro Bono going?'

The man had either been eavesdropping or he had the nose of a bloodhound, Annabeth thought. Briefly, she ran through the options in her head. _If _Chiron did know that she'd passed off the case; she'd be getting her ass kicked in his office. Since her boss seemed genuinely interested, Annabeth decided to take her chances and lie.

'I'm all over it.' She said, without batting an eyelid.

'That makes me very happy,' Chiron stroked his chin, 'because if I were to find out that you weren't putting in your _full effort _into it; I'd be very upset.'

Nose of a bloodhound, Annabeth thought disparagingly. Still, her boss was obviously fishing for answers and he didn't have any evidence yet. That knowledge made Annabeth feel considerably safer than if she'd known her boss had found out.

'No worries,' she reassured him, 'we're all good.'

Thankfully, the elevator doors opened, allowing her an escape before Chiron really sank his teeth into her. Nodding once more at her boss, she hit the "close doors" button with as much strength as she could muster.

* * *

'Rachel—hey, wait up!'

Percy called, dodging through the people that separated him and the paralegal with agility that even he was fairly proud of. After Annabeth had basically told him to figure it out on his own again (he was sensing a pattern here) Percy had had no choice but to turn to the only other person in the firm who was willing to help him—something which he'd just _assumed _since she'd been the one to give him his orientation.

Rachel turned, looking uninterested. 'Hey, what's up?'

'I need your help.' Percy said, trying very hard not to sound desperate. 'There's a hearing on my subpoena.'

Rachel shrugged and began to turn away, 'I have three cases to work on—you're going to have to wait in line.'

'No, wait!' Percy caught her arm and brought her up, close to him. For a second, his thoughts wandered: she was so damn _pretty_, that it blew his mind a little. Her green eyes had flecks of gold in it and her mouth had full, red lips, just waiting to be kissed.

Then Rachel squirmed and he got tugged back to the present. Hurriedly, he let go of her arm. 'Please: my hearing is _tomorrow._'

He watched hopefully as Rachel began walking again, obviously considering it. He forced him to fall into step beside her, because he knew if he followed; he'd end up staring at her ass—something he was pretty sure he didn't want to get caught doing.

Rachel held her silence all the way till she stopped outside a medium sized office and fixed him with an unusually serious look, 'so why are you coming to _me _for this?'

Trapped, Percy tried very hard to keep his expression the same. He could just tell Rachel that she was the only other person in the firm whom he could ask for help since his boss didn't seem to care. A long forgotten advice his mom had once given him popped into his head, and he tried for a suave smile.

'Because Malcolm told me you're the best researcher in the firm.'

Rachel raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. 'Hm. Let me see the motion.'

Grinning when her back was turned, Percy handed over the file and followed her into the glass office. Wait a second; he thought in complete incredulity, Rachel was leading him into anoffice (which had glass walls, a teak table and tan colour walls, complete with a view of the city) as though she _owned_ it? Something was definitely wrong here.

'Woah,' he glanced around, unable to believe his eyes, '_you _have an office? How come _you _get an office and I get a box?'

Rachel smiled smugly as she took her seat. 'Like you said; I'm the best researcher in the firm.'

'Really?' Percy chuckled, looking around once more and completely forgetting that he had to maintain a filter on his mouth at all times, 'because I never even had the chance to talk to Malcolm...'

He stopped as soon as he could but evidently he wasn't fast enough. Rachel was back to looking _very _pissed off.

'Is this all a joke to you?' She asked, her tone wintry, 'because I take my job very seriously.'

'Wha—_no._' Percy said emphatically, wishing he could install a device into his brain that didn't let him screw simple conversations up, 'look, I care about this woman,' he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, recalling Katie's desperate face, 'and she has no one else to turn to—'

'—and you can't help her on your own?' Rachel finished, gazing at him with a look that told him she'd heard it all before.

Deciding to reclaim _some _of his shredded dignity and hoping it would ease the atmosphere, Percy sat down in the chair opposite her. 'I _can _help her on my own...' he said, completely untruthfully, because honestly he didn't know his ass from his elbow at this point, 'I just... _prefer _not to.'

Rachel looked a little more willing to help him. 'Okay.' She gave him a hint of a smile and flipped open his file, 'you're asking to look at private files without any evidence to support your assertion?'

Percy nodded, 'yeah but the only way we can _find _that evidence is if we look into those files.'

'That's not a good argument.' Rachel shook her head.

'But is there a precedent?' Percy pressed, hoping that all the memorizing he'd done to pass the Bar wasn't going to be for nothing. He could list dozens and dozens of cases for all kinds of crimes but he couldn't recall a single one to help him with this particular case. That, however didn't mean that a case like this hadn't happened before, it only meant that he hadn't had a chance to read up on it.

Rachel mulled over his question for a bit and then suddenly smiled widely. 'Let's go see if we can find one.'

* * *

The library was _huge._

Percy had to physically stop his mouth from dropping open at least six times as Rachel led him through the maze of bookshelves (which were also made of glass by the way—Pearson Hardman seemed to have an obsession). As far as Percy could make out, everything was organized with an alpha-numeric system which he had no doubt was highly efficient and easy to maintain.

'Research is as much an art as a science,' Rachel filled him in, weaving between the towering stacks with practiced ease, 'so we're going to look at Privacy _and_ Harassment Law to see if we can find a good combination of cases to make an argument. I'll take Privacy.'

'And I'll take Harassment Law.' Percy muttered as they turned and began climbing down a stairway which Percy hadn't seen before (dear god—this place had two _levels?_)

'This is going to take a while,' Rachel informed him, stopping next to a small, aluminium table which he presumed was going to be their base of operations, 'so we're going to have to order dinner.'

'I'll order Chinese?' Percy offered, internally groaning at the thought of sitting in once place for the whole day. Just because he liked reading didn't meant he wanted to spend his day doing only that.

'Uh, no.' Rachel frowned, 'I can afford Chinese on my own. This one's on the firm, remember?'

Looking at her slightly mischievous smile, Percy suddenly didn't view the rest of his day as a torture. Rachel Elizabeth Dare was proving to be a very interesting companion indeed.

'I'll order some sushi.' He grinned as she winked at him and set her bag down, heading for the required bookshelf. Percy couldn't help but glance at her behind as she went, and he had to admit, it was the finest thing he'd seen in a while.

* * *

Annabeth stared at the man opposite her and contemplated, not for the first time, whether she could just break her principle of not sleeping with married men. Anthony "Tony" Boreanaz was somebody who could be classified as god's gift to womankind. He had the face of a French count and a personality of a Spanish conquistador. He also made love like an Italian—all intensely passionate and beautifully gentle. Annabeth knew the latter because when they'd first met he hadn't been married.

'You know Annabeth; I'd much prefer going back to our usual arrangement.' Anthony's voice was husky with desire and even though she wanted nothing else than to take him back home and throw him on to her bed, Annabeth stuck to her principles.

'I know, Tony.' She sighed, putting a hand inside her bag to withdraw a sealed envelope which she then placed on the table between them, 'but you're the one who went and got engaged.'

Anthony flashed irritability. 'You know that was a business manoeuvre to simply secure my future.'

Annabeth couldn't help but grin at his sheer foreignness of his gestures. 'Whatever the case may be—you know there are some lines I don't cross.'

Anthony pursed his lips but picked up the envelope, accepting defeat. 'Who am I looking into this time?'

'John Dockery.' Annabeth answered instantly, switching over to business mode, 'I have to close him and I want to have a little information before we meet face to face.'

Anthony grinned. 'Information? What kind?'

Annabeth leaned back in her chair, discreetly signalling the passing waiter to get the check. 'The usual kind. Details are in the envelope. As well as the advance.'

'Tell me,' Anthony's gaze was smoky with barely restrained desire, 'do you ever meet clients without having some sort of leverage?'

Annabeth didn't even have to give the question any thought. 'You know the answer to that, Tony.'

He chuckled and tapped at the wine glass in front of him. 'If I could, I would marry you, Annabeth.'

'What's stopping you?' She quipped.

Anthony frowned for a moment, looking away to the bar before gazing at seriously. 'Because you don't care for anyone but yourself.' He stated blandly, draining his glass in a flourish which only somebody born and brought up in Europe could pull off properly.

Annabeth wasn't sure if she was being insulted so she maintained her polite tone. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Anthony shrugged, 'your life is only about you. You don't ever want to share it.'

'That isn't true,' Annabeth shot back, 'I have full intention of sharing it with Pearson Hardman.'

Anthony beamed in appreciation of the remark and just like the atmosphere was once more one of congeniality. He held out his hand for the check as it came past, stopping her from reaching for it. 'Please.' He said quietly, 'to make up for my earlier remarks.'

Annabeth let it go, only because she knew that he would be incredibly affronted if they fought over it. Once the check was paid for, they both stood up, settling into a familiar routine which had served them many times over the past.

'So when do you want the information?' Anthony asked, as they stepped outside, watching the headlights of her BMW light up the sidewalk.

'Tomorrow,' Annabeth answered and then added, 'latest.'

Anthony didn't look troubled by the deadline. 'You work too quickly for me.' He grumbled theatrically.

'Is that doubt I hear in your voice?' Annabeth couldn't help but ask as Anthony opened the door for her, ever the gentleman.

Anthony flashed a disarming grin. 'Never. Only the best for _you_; Mon Cherie.'

Annabeth blew him a kiss through the window and leaned back into the seat, signalling the driver to get a move on. So far, it had been a satisfactory day. She'd negotiated a brilliant settlement for the Kalen Minog and her divorce client had finally decided to start playing hardball—exactly what she'd encouraged him to do. And now, thanks to Tony, John Dockery was all but closed.

The only thing left, Annabeth thought with a hint of trepidation, was her Pro Bono. Hopefully her associate had come through for her.

* * *

Percy chuckled at Rachel's pitch perfect impersonation of Triton Gray as he took a bite out of the _excellent _sushi he'd managed to order. Files of all sizes littered the table they were working on and there were at least a dozen loose pages which he knew would be a pain in the ass to put back in their correct order.

The hands on his watch told him it was eight pm, which, if he allowed himself to think about, was a little unsettling. True to Rachel's word, they'd been there the whole day and though they'd dug through every Privacy and Harassment case ever recorded by Pearson Hardman; they hadn't found a _thing _to help them with Katie Gardiner's case.

Percy was on the verge of panicking but he found that spending time with Rachel was helping to ease his nerves. After their initial awkwardness had washed away, he found she was an easy to know, charming and overall interesting person, whom he couldn't help liking thoroughly. Adding to that, she was so capable at what she did that he found himself a little envious of her, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Speaking of which...

Percy cleared his throat and sat forward, setting down the asparagus he'd been nibbling at. 'Hey, remember the time when I said you thought you were too smart to be a paralegal?'

Rachel winced, 'yeah?'

Percy shrugged, holding her gaze, 'I was just wondering...?'

'Why I'm not a lawyer?' Rachel finished, looking down at her plate.

Percy felt like kicking himself. How was it that even when he was trying to be nice he came off as an ass? Obviously his brain lacked the ability to convert what he thought into what should be said. He couldn't any other explanation for his terrible social skills.

'I don't test well.' Rachel announced, suddenly.

Caught off guard, Percy resorted to single word questions. 'What?'

'I _am _smart.' Rachel stated, and he couldn't help but agree. She had a nose for digging out things which pertained to his case and almost a sixth sense when it came to helping him for where to look.

'And I know I'd be a good lawyer,' Rachel frowned, 'I just—I don't know what it is. I can't take tests.' She sighed and played with the paper in front of her, 'I mean I _bombed _the LSAT's and even _if _I got into Law School; there would be no way I'd pass the Bar, so...'

She trailed off and Percy felt a twinge of sympathy. Here he was, being a pretend lawyer and then there was Rachel: obviously passionate about her job, and obviously overqualified but unable to take a test because of some inherent disability. Sometimes life was very unfair.

'...if only there were someone who could take the tests for me.' Rachel blew out her cheeks and smiled at him, but Percy was too busy trying to keep the horrified expression of his face. She didn't know did she? Of course she didn't; he was just being paranoid. Even so, he couldn't help but think that he would gladly take the test for her but that would reveal what a fraud he was and he didn't exactly want to parade that bit of information around.

'If only there were.' Percy muttered, looking back at the sheets in his hand, none of which were helping at the moment.

They sat in silence for some time after that. Percy couldn't help but sneak glances at her. She was so damn hot that it was very difficult to keep his concentration. The fact that his work hadn't yielded any results didn't make it any easier. Surely there was _something _he could present, Percy thought desperately, digging through the stack of files he'd yet to examine of his side and shifting the legal dictionary out of his way, something which could help Katie Gardiner get the justice she deserved.

'Jackson!'

Percy's head shot up and his spirits sank further when he found his boss rounding the corner, looking less than amiable.

'Where're you at with the research for tomorrow's hearing?'

Percy cursed inwardly and looked around helplessly the paperwork around him. 'I'm uh—,' he stammered as Annabeth's expression grew more ominous, 'well; nothing as of yet.'

'You said you _care _about the client.' Annabeth reminded him acidly, 'but you're playing _footsie _instead of finding me an argument.'

Percy purposely looked aware from Rachel and hoped like hell he wasn't blushing.

'If you don't have something by tomorrow; the client is going to lose.' Annabeth said coolly, 'and I don't like to lose. So find me a damn argument.'

Percy put rested his head into hands, burning with shame as his boss turned around and vanished around the bend without another word. Some part of him –the part that hadn't withered and died of embarrassment– urged him to stand up and confront his boss. She hadn't exactly jumped to help him so why was she complaining about losing? He'd even gone begging for help to her, but she'd just shut him out like some errant puppy in need of punishment.

In mind's eye, Percy thought about the briefcase full of weed. He didn't have to take anymore shit: he could quit and get by quite nicely for a few more months.

'Demanding,' Rachel commented quietly, bringing him back to the present.

Percy glanced at her, relieved to see that she too looked subdued. 'You have no idea.'

Rachel shuffled around some papers and finally looked at him dejectedly. 'Look, it's no use. Their investigation is by the book and we look like the bad guys—coming and putting them under duress.'

Percy leaned back in his chair, his head throbbing. The fact that _Rachel _was giving up did not look good for him at all. He replayed her words again in his head and something caught his attention. He frowned in thought and leaned forward, feeling the first stirrings of adrenalin.

'What did you just say?'

Rachel looked confused by the question. 'I said that we look like the bad guys.'

'No,' Percy shook his head, feeling a little swamped by the information flooding through his head, 'you said we're putting them under _duress._'

Rachel still looked completely bewildered by the change in topic but Percy wasn't paying attention. Searching frantically through the mess on the table he found the answer to his, and Katie Gardiner's problems: the legal dictionary.

Muttering a hasty apology to Rachel, Percy sprang out of his chair and sprinted after his boss; hoping that she hadn't left the building already.

* * *

Annabeth leaned against the backdoor of her chauffer driven BMW and flipped through the file her associate had put together after working all night. Reading through it, even she had to admit that Percy Jackson was definitely a notch higher than the rest. His argument was clear and concise and he'd even taken the liberty to highlight the smoking gun, as though she didn't already know what it was.

She hadn't really expected him to come up with something, and had been fully prepared to bullshit her way through the hearing but the information he'd collated had now given them a solid chance. She closed the file and made a decision.

'This is good,' Annabeth said, glancing at her associate and containing the urge to smirk because he looked fairly dazed when he heard the compliment, 'we're going to have some fun.'

It took Percy a full ten seconds to react. 'We?' he repeated, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, 'you're going to let me come?'

Annabeth shook her head, enjoying the feeling of playing the good guy for once. 'What?' She teased, 'you didn't think I'd let you come along?'

Percy looked positively thunderstruck and Annabeth made a mental note to be a little gentler with him. The guy was already in way over his head. The least she could do was not be a complete bitch to him.

'I—no,' He admitted truthfully, 'uh, this your case after all.'

'You're right.' Annabeth agreed straightening up from the door; 'I wasn't going to let you come, but...' she waited to make sure she had his full attention, 'then I thought it would be cruel to not let you witness my greatness.'

Percy rolled his eyes. 'Jeez. Okay—can I go get my bag?'

'No.' Annabeth said pointedly, 'now get in the car.'

Hesitating because of the change in her tone, Percy reached forward but Annabeth blocked his way.

'Other side.' She said, gesturing, and watching with amusement as Percy hopped to do her bidding. Sometimes, she thought with immense satisfaction as she opened the door, it was almost too easy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT FIVE: INTIMIDATION.**

Percy took his place in the courtroom and waited with baited breath as the Judge Litt entered and took his seat. He was a man who was definitely on the wrong side of fifty with thinning grey hair and puffy cheeks. Obviously a guy who'd never make a Supreme Count position. But Percy didn't care; he was in an _actual courtroom. _He couldn't wait to tell his mom: she'd be so proud of him.

On the opposite side, Percy caught sight of the Eric Dwayne's lawyer: Mr. George Stiles. He was a heavyset man with thick eyebrows and as Percy watched him, he became aware that Stiles kept glancing his way.

He was afraid of Annabeth, Percy realized a second later. Stiles fidgeted with his bottle of water and shuffled the papers in front of him for the third time in as many minutes as he stood up to open the defence.

Annabeth mirrored his movements, and Percy had to admit that she did look scary. Scarily competent that is. Her posture was straight and she kept her hands loose but steady. All her paperwork was filed away: she obviously had no use for it.

Judge Litt rapped the gavel sharply and the hearing began.

'Your Honour,' Eric Dwayne was quick to start, his hands occupying themselves with his papers again, 'this case should be thrown out. Other than her story; the plaintive doesn't have one piece of evidence.'

'Because the evidence is locked away in their personnel files,' Annabeth shot back immediately, much to Percy's admiration, 'files that they're conveniently refusing to hand over.'

Percy had the pleasure of seeing Stiles grit his teeth in frustration. Obviously, the hearing had not started well for Dwayne and McGregor.

'Those files contain sensitive information,' Stiles announced importantly, 'she's _fishing_ for nothing at the expense of our employees' right to privacy.'

Percy wasn't sure if such a personal remark was allowed but since the Judge didn't say anything and Annabeth didn't object, he figured that a hearing for a subpoena didn't keep all its rules as tight as they were supposed to be. In fact the Judge looked supremely bored as he took in the two lawyers: something which changed as soon as Annabeth reacted to Stiles' statement.

'Please,' she said derisively, 'they don't give a rat's ass about their employees' right to Privacy—'

Percy had to control the urge to laugh out loud.

'—in fact,' Annabeth continued much to Stile's displeasure, 'that's actually unfair to rats' asses.'

The Judge smiled: the first hint of interest he'd shown and Percy couldn't help but grin too. Annabeth was the freaking Yoda of the courtroom.

'Your Honour, Ms. Chase's claim that we don't care about our employees' right to privacy is nothing but belittling,' Stiles shuffled his papers once more, clearly reassuring himself that he had a solid case, 'and doesn't carry any weight in the rule of law.'

Even though Percy didn't like Stiles, he had to admit that the lawyer's argument was fair. He glanced at his boss and wondered how and when she was going to use their smoking gun.

'True,' Annabeth smiled charmingly, though Percy saw the steel in her gray eyes, 'but what does carry weight in the rule of law is that an investigation into sexual harassment must be conducted without any _duress._'

And there it was: Percy's pride and joy. He wanted to pump his fist in the air and announce to the whole room that he'd been the one to piece it together but he sincerely doubted if the Judge would take kindly to that. Not to mention his boss would rip him apart.

'Your point?' Judge Litt questioned, giving what Percy knew, to be the opening Annabeth had been building towards.

'The investigator and every person they interviewed answers to the CEO they were investigating,' Annabeth pointed out, in clear terms, 'and _that, _Your Honour, is the definition of _duress._'

Percy smiled when he saw Stile's expression. The lawyer looked like he wanted to shoot someone.

'Your Honour,' Annabeth continued into the silence, enjoying herself, 'if your bailiff accused _you _of sexual harassment, and you assigned your stenographer to investigate, how likely is it that the investigation would bear fruit?'

Percy had no idea how Annabeth had just accused the Judge of something so huge and gotten away with it. The Judge didn't even look offended at the example being used; in fact he looked positively curious.

'You honestly think I would harass Herman?'

Annabeth waited a beat and then spread her hands, 'I don't know, Your Honour, some people have a thing for the uniform.'

How she managed to say it straight-faced was beyond Percy's area of expertise. He was fighting down the urge to laugh with everything he had and Stiles looked like he wanted to sink into the ground somewhere.

'Well,' Judge Litt said heavily, 'I would like to think that Herman would come to me before it ever came to an investigation.'

'And what if he did, Your Honour?' Annabeth questioned turning to Stiles so that the accusation could be seen by everybody, 'and you _betrayed _his trust by firing him. Under false pretences.'

It was like something out of a movie, Percy decided. No one could twist words as magically as Annabeth Chase could. No wonder she was called the best closer in NYC. He wondered if his father had even been that good.

'You really think that little of me?' The Judge looked positively amused by the charade being played out in his court.

Annabeth grinned at him. 'I would trust you as far as I could throw you... Your Honour.'

And that was it. That was the end. Percy wanted to stand up and give his boss a standing ovation but he restrained himself. There would be time enough for it later. Besides, he thought to himself soberly, just because he was blown away by Annabeth's argument didn't mean Litt was. There was still a possibility that the motion could be denied and Percy knew that without those personnel files he would never win the case.

He needn't have been so worried. After a minute's consideration, Litt tapped his gavel. 'Hand over the files,' he called authoritatively, 'today.' He added when Stiles' swore rather loudly.

* * *

'That. Was. Awesome.' Percy was buzzing elation as he and Annabeth headed out of the courthouse to her car which was waiting for them. He still couldn't believe that after all the worrying he'd done—he finally had some good news to give Katie. His first case! And he was already halfway there!

'Seriously. You were awesome!' Percy repeated. Sure, he still thought his boss was a bit of an oddball—with the mercurial mood changes and the high demands but all of that was totally compensated by the fact that she was the most brilliant lawyer he'd ever seen in action.

Annabeth shrugged, already reaching for her phone. 'It was your argument. I just humanized it in a way that brightened all our afternoons.'

Percy stopped in shock. Had his boss actually complimented his hard work? That couldn't be right. This was Annabeth Chase—the only person she ever complimented was herself (and maybe Malcolm) but not her lowly associate.

Annabeth glanced behind her, 'what?'

_Holy mother of god, _Percy thought, she _had_ actually complimented him. His first shitty day of work was totally worth what he'd just witnessed. Grinning enormously he fell back into step with her. 'I feel like Michael Corleone,' he confessed, feeling slightly dazed, 'in that scene where that fat guy teaches him how to shoot that gun.'

Annabeth came to an abrupt halt. 'Are you calling me fat? Because I'm _not_ fat.'

Backtracking immediately, Percy searched for the right words to say. 'N-no! No, of course not—'

He stopped when he saw the slow smile spread across Annabeth's face. It was the first genuine smile he'd seen from her and honestly it left him in awe. How was it that someone so smart could be so incredibly beautiful as well?

'...and you're screwing with me.' Percy shook his head, amused.

'Easy bait.' Annabeth shrugged, clearly unrepentant.

'D'you know the name of that fat guy?' Percy couldn't help but shooting it out there, determined to take advantage of her good mood.

'Yeah.'

'Cordoza.' Percy tried, as they went down the steps.

'Clemenza.' Annabeth corrected him.

'I knew that!' Percy insisted, feeling the grin retain permanent place on his face, 'I was just checking if _you _knew it.'

Annabeth fixed him with a pleased look as the driver jumped to open her door. 'I knew that you knew that I knew.' Cocking her head to one side, she slid into the car leaving Percy with strange butterflies in his stomach.

* * *

Percy headed for Rachel's office trying to feel better about himself. Yesterday he'd won a hearing (or well his _boss _had won a hearing—whatever) but somehow, none of his professional skills made up for the fact that he'd received a call from Bianca.

She'd pleaded with him to get back to talking to Luke and he'd been forced to shut her out, without giving her a reason because, even when he wasn't talking to his best friend, he still had to cover his ass in front of his girlfriend. If there was one thing Percy hated more in the world than Luke at the moment, it was lying to Bianca. And in the situation, he was now doing both those things.

Forcing himself to think of happier things, like the fact that he was meeting Rachel, he knocked on the paralegal's door and let himself in without waiting for permission.

'Hey!' Rachel looked genuinely pleased to see him.

Percy grinned, collapsing into the chair. 'Hey—I stopped by to say something.'

Rachel lifted an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue.

Gathering his thoughts, Percy replayed everything over in his head once more. He wasn't going to let his brain screw this up. 'Listen,' he began, feeling that for once he was on the right track, 'I couldn't have done it without you. So uh...' He exhaled, 'thank you for the help.'

Rachel narrowed her eyes and raised a finger. 'Objection. You wouldn't have even _known_ where to _look _withoutme.'

Percy chuckled, 'you know what nobody likes? A smartass.'

He felt good about that the fact that he could throw her own words back at her without having to feel unsure about it. They'd barely known each other for two days but already, Percy was beginning to really like Rachel Dare. And not only because she was hot—she seemed to, genuinely, be the one person who operated on only one level. Everyone else in the firm played their own mind games, but not Rachel and Percy really appreciated that.

'Oh by the way,' Rachel's expression turned a trifle guilty, 'your personnel files are here. Except...'

'Except?' Percy questioned, suddenly entertaining thoughts of the fact that Dwayne and McGregor had sent over blank pages. But they couldn't could they? It was a court mandated order.

'Except they're like thirty boxes full of them...' Rachel winced, 'they're trying to _bury_ you in paperwork.'

Percy thought about it and for a change, didn't feel like lashing out. If this was Dwayne and McGregor's way of fighting back then he was all ready for it. He'd learned his lesson: there was no way anymore intimidation was going to work. Besides, thirty boxes weren't a challenge. Not that he now knew what he was looking for.

'Well,' Percy said slowly and enjoying Rachel's hopeful expression, 'they picked the wrong guy to do it to.'

'If they didn't—then I did.'

Percy swivelled around to find that his boss was standing in the doorway. Her earlier good mood had vanished and she was back to being ice-cold, "I-don't-care-about-people" emotionless lawyer. Her expression was less than friendly.

'Get it done by the end of the week.' She said, her tone leaving him in no doubt that she was being deadly serious, 'or you might kiss winning this case goodbye.'

* * *

Annabeth surveyed the man in front of her as he zipped around the tennis court, whacking balls with an elegance that belayed the intense expression on his face. For a man who was in his mid-fifties, John Dockery was in superb physical condition. He had greying hair and even though Annabeth knew he needed reading glasses, he exuded an air of distinguished confidence.

Too bad the only way to close him would be with her steamroller approach.

Annabeth sat down on the nearest bench, wrinkling her nose as the stench of sweat permeated the space around her. Of course she just _had _to choose to sit right next to Dockery's towel.

'Nice to finally meet you Ms. Chase,' Dockery grinned, making his way over to her, 'Chiron said that you're going to _sweep _me off my feet.'

'I'll do my best, Mr. Dockery.' Annabeth stood up and waited till he'd wiped himself with his towel before holding out her hand, 'you have a nice serve.'

Dockery shrugged, 'I'm working on it.'

Annabeth smiled politely and held out the file Anthony had sent over in the morning. True to his word, he really had gotten the best for her and when Annabeth had seen its contents, she'd vowed to send him a bottle of her best wine. Anthony was a veritable mole when it came to digging out sensitive information.

Dockery's easy demeanour vanished when he opened the file. White-faced, he glanced up at her, fire burning in his eyes. 'What _the hell _is this?'

Annabeth shrugged, unafraid. 'It's pictures of you having sex with a woman who is not Mrs. Dockery.'

Dockery gritted his teeth and threw the file to the ground, sticking his chin out with repressed aggression. 'Are you trying to blackmail me?'

_If only, _Annabeth thought wryly. Instead, she rearranged her expression to look politely business like and amended her tone to be less antagonizing. 'You asked my firm where you're vulnerable to corporate takeover,' she paused and gestured to the file on the ground, 'that's it right there.'

'What had _this _got to do with anything?' Dockery hissed.

Rolling her eyes, Annabeth resigned herself to explaining this properly. 'You _wife _owns ten percent of your company's voting shares,' she pointed out reasonably, 'how do you think she's going to vote after she finds out about your... indiscretions?'

'She doesn't have to find out.' Dockery insisted, stubbornly.

Annabeth raised a disbelieving eyebrow, 'my investigator got these within a _day._ What d'you think a motivated competitor is going to dig up in a _year_?'

Dockery visibly deflated. Gone was the man with the devilish charm and easy grace. For the first time, he actually looked his age: an old, pitiful man who'd gotten screwed over because he'd been thinking with the wrong head. Annabeth sighed, and decided to put him out of his misery.

'I have a solution,' she offered and Dockery glanced up, hope brimming in his eyes.

'Trade her, your preferred shares which have _no_ voting rights,' Annabeth shrugged when he saw his less than pleased expression, 'for her common shares which _do_.'

Dockery shook his head immediately. 'The preferred shares are worth _two million _dollars more!'

Annabeth sometimes wished Chiron wouldn't pass off all the idiots to her. Even with his back against a wall, Dockery was proving to be a short-sighted fool.

'That's a _fraction_ of what you'll lose if you get voted out of your company,' she pointed out, 'John, I don't care if you sleep with every woman in the Hamptons.' Annabeth paused to give more emphasis to her next point, 'just give your wife the preferred shares.'

Dockery thought over it for a minute, while she waited patiently. Already her mind was moving on the next order of business: this was all but a done deal. She still had to clinch the settlement for her divorce client. Annabeth could already imagine the bonus she would receive for closing that particular man.

'Charles said you'd charm me to get my business.' Dockery shook his head in resignation, indicating that he would do as she said.

'I'm not _interested _in getting your business,' Annabeth told him flatly, 'I'm interested in keeping it.'

Dockery smiled, some of his earlier vitality coming back as Annabeth gave him a last nod and made her way back to her car, glad to be out of range of the sweaty towel and the idiot old man.

* * *

Annabeth was in the middle of a spirited discussion with Malcolm about who would be a prime candidate to take on Obama in the 2012 election, when Percy Jackson walked into her office, looking like the cat that'd swallowed the cream. His eyes were bloodshot and his shirt looked stained but his grin was bright enough to power the whole building.

She raised a pointed eyebrow when Jackson collapsed into her (very expensive) couch and put his feet up on the glass table opposite it.

'I know where they don't want us to look!' He announced, stretching and resting his head back.

'You got through all those files in _one _night?' Malcolm asked astounded, from his corner of the room while Annabeth watched, fairly impressed herself. She'd given her associate a deadline of a week: obviously he was way faster than that. It was time to alter her perceptions of him again, for the nth time.

Jackson shrugged, 'I would have done it faster but then I ordered a pizza.'

Annabeth rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair: humbleness was definitely not on the list of his character traits.

'Speaking of which, 'Jackson continued with that jittery restleness of a person who was surviving on pure adrenalin, 'have you tried the cheese _in _the crust? Because it _blew my mind._'

Annabeth sighed, determined to get her associate back on track, 'what did you find?'

'There was a dismissal;' Jackson sat forward, suddenly all business, 'on March 12th 2005, but the file with the employee name on it is missing. It's our woman,' He said with conviction, 'I know it is!'

Annabeth pursed her lips: finally a proper breakthrough. She pulled herself closer to the table using her feet and reached for her desk phone while Jackson continued to talk, his brain working over time.

'I'm moving to slap sanctions on their attorney,' he said with relish and Annabeth hit a series of numbers with deft movements tuning out from her associate who was still speaking, 'he isn't going to know what hit him!'

'George,' Annabeth spoke into the phone, noticing Jackson check the status of his personal hygiene from the corner of her eye, 'this is Annabeth Chase. Did you have anything to do with the March 12th 2005 file left out of discovery?'

She listened to Stiles excuses with one ear, while taking a critical view of her associate. Jackson still had that god-awful suit on and she had a feeling his breath was going to be worse than a dog's. Adding to that, he looked like a chimpanzee that'd gone at his fur with a pair of scissors.

'If there here by noon, I'll believe you,' Annabeth cut Stiles off mid-way, 'if not: we're filing for sanctions.'

She put the phone down without another word and had the pleasure of watching Jackson's brow wrinkle in confusion. Even a genius had so much to learn, she thought fondly. Her associate might have been leagues ahead of everyone else in grunt work but he still had to be taught about the nuances of power plays.

'Threat of sanctions is better than filing for sanctions.' Annabeth explained, gesturing to Malcolm to fix the train wreck of an associate in front of her.

'That's what I meant...' Jackson looked askance as Malcolm retrieved a razor and put it down on the table in front of him.

'Shave.' Annabeth ordered and then frowned at the feet still on her glass table, 'and while you're at it: change your shoes.'

* * *

Joanna Webster.

That was the name of the employee Dwayne and McGregor had tried to bury. Percy had run a cursory background check and found that she had worked with the company for two years: until she'd been terminated for no real reason. Buzzing with anticipation and sure of the fact that Annabeth would give him a gold medal if he succeeded in getting Joanna to testify, Percy had managed to track her down all the way to her current address.

And here he was, skipping lunch, so that he didn't risk the chance of missing Joanna.

The part that wasn't congratulating Percy on his success, clenched with worry. It was important he be able to convince Joanna to testify. Because of the nature of Katie Gardiner's case, it was vital that someone else came forward to corroborate the statement in a recorded tape. Otherwise it was just Katie's word against the CEO, and Percy knew from subpoena filing, that the court didn't always swing in the little guy's favour.

And Annabeth had left the whole responsibility on him, which meant she was actually trusting him to get this right. Percy had finally been able to figure out the rules that governed their relationship: if he succeeded at his work, she granted him certain amount of leeway in his interaction with her, if he didn't; she could make the boss in Devil Wears Prada look like a cute bunny.

And at some level, Percy respected that. Annabeth had made it very clear that she was impressed by hard work. Percy was determined to set a whole new standard for that if it meant increasing favour with his boss. She'd actually put her job on the line by granting him the opportunity to work as a lawyer; he was determined to make her proud.

Footsteps sounded on the path next him and when he looked up he found a woman who looked around thirty with auburn hair and brown eyes.

'Joanna Webster?' Percy asked, getting to his feet.

The woman nodded slowly, obviously a little wary of him.

'I'm Percy Jackson,' He made his tone as non-threatening as possible as he smiled at her, 'and I work for Pearson Hardman. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?'

* * *

Annabeth glanced through the messages Malcolm had left for her, enjoying the soothing sounds of Bob Marley singing about the good side of weed, as her surround sound system added a hitherto unsuspected level of quality of the music.

It was nearly 7 o' clock but Annabeth had no intention of going home even though the lights in her office were off: she just enjoyed a moment of solitude now and again to review the entire day's work. Malcolm had already left, claiming he had to babysit his nephews but she was pretty sure that her assistant was hitting up the closest bar in town.

Even so, Annabeth didn't mind it. Malcolm basically handled all of her workload: she was more than happy to let him have his nights out. She leaned back in her chair and examined her office with pleasure.

It was the second biggest office in the building, beaten only by Chiron's plush interiors, but Annabeth still loved it. The glass walls, much like her home, offered her a powerful view of NYC, something she liked looking at in her spare time. The walls were nice tan colour, which were comforting no matter what the season.

Her desk was solid teak and didn't have much on it by way of personal effects, except a picture of her mother. Her father—and the rest of his _other _family weren't offered such a place of honour: they'd been delegated to the other glass tables littered around the office, which also housed all of Annabeth's collections: her record collection, her pen collection, her baseball collection and her basketball collection.

Malcolm often liked to joke that she had more balls than the rest of the firm put together. Annabeth quite liked the pun on most days.

The glass door whisked open and she raised her gaze to find her associate hovering at the edge, his guilty expression showing quite clearly even with the diffused light.

'What?' She called, a slight edge to her tone. His expression had something ominous about it and she didn't like it one bit

Jackson shuffled into the office, looking fairly exhausted. He stopped in front of her desk and looked at his shoes—a clear tell that success hadn't been his for the day.

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. 'You failed to get her to testify; didn't you?'

Jackson nodded miserably. 'I failed...' He trailed off into the gathering silence.

Annabeth gritted her teeth but didn't say anything. Sure; it was a major setback because now, if the case went to trial, she only had the victim's words to make an argument out of but she was still Annabeth Chase: she could win a case for a mass murderer if she had to. She was just that good.

'I did fail,' Jackson repeated, crafty grin enveloping his face, 'only to not be _awesome_.'

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to not pick up the nearest heavy object and throw it at her associate. Some people might have thought his playfulness was an endearing quality, she wasn't one of them.

'You should have _seen _me,' Jackson gushed, oblivious to his boss' ire, 'I tried everything: "he's a sexual predator, he'll do it again, only you can stop him," but _nothing _worked. She just refused to testify.'

Annabeth waited, curious despite herself.

'And _then,_' Jackson spread his arms theatrically, 'it hit me. I asked her: what if it was her _daughter _that Eric Dwayne did this to?'

Annabeth _had _to admit: it was a pretty genius manoeuvre. Nine times out of ten, a witness would come forward to testify it something like that had happened to family. Mothers' in particular were extremely vulnerable about their children.

'She melted,' Jackson grinned, suddenly changing tactics, 'and you know how I came up with that little gem?'

Annabeth simply smiled. Her associate was pretty darn entertaining when he was so full of himself.

'I _cared._' Jackson emphasized the words, no doubt attempting to remind her of their previous conversation where she had told him she didn't attach herself to clients. Even though Annabeth wanted to point out that manipulating people didn't require caring about then, she didn't. Her associate had won a clean battle: she could let him have it.

'Good work.' She said, riffling through her messages once more to see if she'd missed anything.

'Good work?' Jackson repeated incredulously, 'it was the _best_ work. You're welcome, by the way.'

Annabeth appraised him, chuckling. 'I'm glad to see that staying up all night hasn't made you a complete idiot...'

Jackson rolled his eyes and stuck his fingers into his ears, miming the fact that he wasn't listening to a thing she was saying. Annabeth sighed, for a guy who was only five years younger than her; he sure acted like a kid sometimes.

'...now go home, I don't want you screwing up the deposition tomorrow.' Annabeth waved him out and then winced when she saw Chiron roll into the door. She didn't want her boss to see that she'd hired a crazy guy who had no taste in clothes. Jackson suddenly straightened his tie when he came face-to-face with the founding partner and with a muttered "good evening sir," he exited the room as quickly as possible.

Chiron, however, looked amused as he turned his head to watch Jackson leave. 'How's the new kid working out?'

'He's fine.' Annabeth shrugged, dismissively.

Chiron grinned. 'Of course. I just stopped by to say good work with John Dockery.'

Annabeth considered her boss carefully. While congratulating her might have been one point on the agenda, she wasn't stupid enough to believe that Chiron had come all the way to her office just to bandy pleasantries. Suddenly the thought that he'd found out about Jackson not being a Harvard educated lawyer (or really _any _educated lawyer) entered her head but she dismissed it as quickly. There was nothing suspicious about Percy Jackson's behaviour: she'd made sure of that. Which meant, it was something else...

Feeling her guard rise, Annabeth attempted a modest expression. 'I told you: he was as good as closed.'

'Hmm...' Chiron picked up pen from her desk and spun it around, seemingly at ease, 'I also stopped by to ask about your Pro Bono case.'

Annabeth blew out her cheeks, hoping that she looked calm. 'It's going good. I talked a witness into testifying.'

'Really?' Chiron's gaze was suddenly a lot steelier, 'what's the witness' name?'

Trapped, and berating herself for not asking Jackson, Annabeth glanced around, hoping to stall. Surely her associate had mentioned it? Nervous about looking at her boss, Annabeth kept her gaze on her mother's photograph and hoped Chiron would just let it go. It wasn't even such a big deal; was it?

'I'm not an idiot, Annabeth...' Chiron said quietly, 'so don't treat me like one. You pawned off the case, didn't you?'

Annabeth sighed and looked back at her boss. Technically she was still overseeing her associate's work, so what if she wasn't doing all the "hands-on-work?" She'd made it clear that Pro Bono cases were beneath her anyway. The way Annabeth saw it; she'd done a deal that'd benefitted her, Jackson _and _her boss.

'Chiron,' she began reasonably, 'I have higher profile cases to work on—'

'May I remind you,' Chiron interrupted, his tone growing colder by the second, 'that when we first met you were a screw-up in the mailroom? I _paid _for you to go to Harvard, where, by the way, you did some very questionable deeds...'

Annabeth winced, trying her hardest not to remember her college days. That had been so long ago, and besides, she'd been reeling from the shock of her mother's death and her dad's remarriage. Surely that was all water under the bridge?

'...after which I _still _gave you a job.' Chiron finished.

'You've benefitted from that ever since.' Annabeth pointed out, angry that he was bringing up her past. It had been an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. Why the hell was he breaking it now?

'You made a _promise _to me.' Chiron reminded her, 'and you broke it. And then, you _lied _to my face!'

Annabeth gritted her teeth but didn't say anything.

'Just to be clear,' Chiron fixed her with an unwavering stare, 'this isn't professional. This is _personal._'

She sighed: great, she's just gotten the "I-love-you-like-a-daughter" speech. She got what Chiron was driving at: he was looking to see if he could trust her, and frankly, in her opinion, he could. On important matters. Not on some stupid Pro Bono which wasn't worth a second of her time.

Chiron replaced the pen on her desk and fiddled with the controls of his wheelchair. 'Try and remember that we made a deal so if you don't win...' He hesitated but then said firmly, 'I'll be giving the Senior Partnership to someone else.'

_Triton, _Annabeth thought with distaste. That weasel headed idiot should have never made junior partner, let alone be _considered _for Senior.

'I hope know what you've gotten yourself into.' Chiron said warningly, as he left her office.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT SIX: INEXPLICABLE.**

Percy entered his apartment and stopped in shock. The entire place was _trashed. _His couch had the stuffing ripped out of it and his TV had been dismantled. Books lay on the floor everywhere and even his fridge's door hung open forlornly, its weak yellow light pooling in a circle around it.

Heart hammering, Percy let his bike fall to the floor as he waded into the mess. _What the hell had just happened_, he thought in sudden panic. Sure his apartment was on the seedier side of town but he'd lived in New York all his life and had never been on the receiving end of a break-in.

Something caught his eye and he turned to the empty flowerpot he kept on his dining table which usually held his keys and spare change. All twenty dollars of it was lying there undisturbed. What guy broke into a house and then didn't take any money?

_A guy who was looking for something in particular, _Percy thought, his heart racing and almost jumped to his oven. In a bid to keep his briefcase safe from Luke he'd tucked it into an empty pizza box and left it in his oven along with two other empty ones. Fingers shaking, he tossed the first one side and scrabbled at the second, hoping against hope that Luke hadn't found it.

The briefcase was there.

Weak with the lack of sleep, Percy slumped against the couch, taking deep breaths in the hope he wouldn't pass out. As much as he didn't like to admit it, the briefcase was his lifeline. He could do his job, knowing that if he ever screwed up he'd still be able to make his mother's payments without a problem.

Enraged that Luke had try to take that away from him, Percy pulled out his phone and hit speed dial, determined to set things straight his way.

Luke answered on the first ring.

'What the _hell _is wrong with you?' Percy yelled, slamming his fist into the armrest of the couch.

Luke sighed on the other end, 'I need the briefcase back.'

'That's what this is about? So you don't care about our friendship _at all?_' Percy snarled.

'You're my oldest friend and you know it!' Luke argued into Percy ear, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion, 'but yeah—I need that briefcase back and I'm going to find it Percy.'

Percy couldn't believe his ears. All that bullshit about asking him to forgive Luke had been just that: bullshit. Luke only ever cared about one person and that had always been himself. That was way it had _always _been.

'Yeah, well, I'm sorry but I ditched it,' Percy didn't feel an iota of guilt for lying, 'when I was running away from the guys with the guns that _you _sent me to!'

'You know that wasn't my fault—' Luke began hotly but Percy was done listening to his lies.

Expressing his anger in something between a wounded roar and a cry of helplessness he threw his phone across the room, wanting nothing more than to physically distance himself from the weed (no pun intended)that had fed on him for most his life.

Drained by his day, Percy stood up wearily and shut the fridge door with a sigh. When had his life become such a screwed up mess?

* * *

Percy walked into the Pearson Hardman building with purposefully. Strapped across his shoulder was his usual carry on workbag but in his right hand he grasped the only thing that helped him through the day: Luke's briefcase full of weed.

He'd spent the night tossing and turning, unable to decide where the case would be safe, until, in the early hours of the morning, he hit upon a genius solution: his office. Luke wouldn't be allowed access into Pearson Hardman nobody would bother checking his cubicle when they were cleaning it anyway. It was the perfect place to stash the briefcase till Percy decided what he wanted to do with it.

Nodding vaguely at his fellow associates, he turned the corner and was five feet away from his box when Triton Gray's nasal voice stopped him in his tracks.

'Percy.'

Percy turned around, confused as to what the junior partner wanted with him. He'd made it clear earlier that Percy wasn't worth his time so why the sudden remembrance?

Triton smiled coldly. 'Where're you going?'

'Uh... to my cubicle?' Percy wondered out loud, glancing around to see if there someone else who Triton really wanted to screw with. Sadly the hallway was empty: the associates knew better than to stick around when Triton Gray was prowling around.

Triton shook his head. 'No you're not. It's "pee-in-a-cup" time.'

Thrown off guard, Percy frowned, hoping he'd misheard. 'I'm sorry; _what?_'

'Drug test.' Triton clarified, his expression changing into a heavy scowl. 'Follow me.'

A cold hand gripped Percy's insides. Suddenly the briefcase in his hand weighed a million tons. Sweat beaded inside his collar and his mind worked furiously, trying to find a way out. Technically he was safe: he hadn't touched drugs since the encounter with Annabeth during the interview and even though he'd handled the weed in the briefcase since then, it had all been vacuumed sealed. There was no way he could fail the drug test.

All he had to do was lock the case away. He didn't want it popping open in front of Triton. Somehow, he doubted the junior partner would be as forgiving as Annabeth.

Percy smiled, forcing himself to stay calm. 'I'll just drop off my stuff—'

'_Now_.' Triton's tone made it perfectly clear he wasn't to be argued with.

Percy gritted his teeth but followed him anyway. He couldn't exactly _not _follow an order from his boss without getting fired. Besides, he reasoned with himself as Triton led him to the nearest restroom, he just had to make sure that no one but himself handled the briefcase. And the clasp was done up tightly. He had nothing to worry about.

'Good morning, Mr. Jackson.' The medical assistant greeted him pleasantly as Triton retreated to a corner, still scowling. Obviously he wasn't a morning person.

Percy smiled, accepting the small plastic container. 'Uh, hi.'

'Leave the cup on the counter.' The assistant instructed and turned away to fill in some paperwork. Percy nodded, to show he'd understood and trying his hardest not to turn around to check if Triton was glaring at him, made his way to the stall, shifting the briefcase into his left hand so that he could open the door.

'You have to leave that case out here.' The assistant called, glancing up from the sheets with a bored expression.

Feeling his chest tighten, Percy narrowed his eyes. He knew it wasn't ordinary behaviour for people to take things with them into the bathroom but that didn't mean he had to accept the norm as well. 'Why?'

'If you take it in there with you, I'll have to check to make sure you don't have another urine sample hidden away.' The assistant explained, his eyebrows rising slightly in suspicion.

Percy filtered through his words and then peeked at Triton. The junior partner had a calculating look in his eyes—one that Percy didn't like one bit. Suddenly afraid that Triton would make him open the case, Percy focused on the chair standing next to the door. It was a plain, flat standard issue piece of furniture which could sit very well to his needs.

Placing the briefcase on the chair, Percy held up the container he'd been given just to show that he wasn't hiding anything and entered the stall, heart thumping madly. This was going to be the longest minute of his life.

* * *

Annabeth powered down the hallway leading to her office, ignoring the people who called out pleasantries to her. Her confrontation with Chiron the night before had ruined her night's rest and had subsequently made her extremely cranky in the morning. She didn't have time for being polite; she needed to win some stupid Pro Bono case because her Senior Partnership depended on it.

It was too bad that her associate who was handling the case was missing in action. Annabeth had swung by his cubicle earlier and had found it empty. Promising herself to yell at him for reporting in late, Annabeth headed for the only person who could possibly have any information: her assistant.

Malcolm was lounging in his chair, laughing into his screen, which told her he was probably video-chatting with someone. When he saw her expression though, he closed the window and switched into business mode.

'Hey. What's up?' He asked, unperturbed by her dark disposition.

Annabeth put down three files on his desk and restrained the desire to cave in and request another coffee. 'I need the Minog review done by this afternoon,' she said instead, 'and where the hell is Jackson?'

Malcolm shrugged, pulling the files towards him. 'I don't know; what am I, his keeper?'

Gritting her teeth, Annabeth turned to her office, her mood worsening by the second. Why was it that when she actually took interest in something, that something refused to present himself. 'If you find him, then just tell me okay?' She called back to Malcolm, deciding to just order another coffee. She definitely needed it.

* * *

Percy pushed open the stall door, trying his best to be unhurried and caught the assistant's eye, nodding slightly. Triton was nowhere to be seen. The junior partner had obviously decided to go waste his time somewhere else, which suited Percy perfectly. He didn't want to spend another minute in the guy's presence.

Collecting his briefcase, (thank god it was still there—he really needed to stop letting it out of his sight) Percy escaped from the restroom and nearly ran all the way down to his office. The sooner he got the weed away from prying eyes, the sooner he could actually settle down and get concentrated on his job.

Making sure nobody was paying him any attention, Percy bent down and opened the cupboard built into his desk. It was made from aluminium, and probably wouldn't hold up if someone decided to break the lock, but otherwise fit his requirements perfectly.

Sliding the case in, Percy shut the door and twisted the key in its lock. Satisfied that his backup plan was secure, he straightened up in his chair—

—and got the shock of his life when he found his boss staring at him, her grey eyes alight with an unidentifiable emotion.

'Where've you been?' Annabeth questioned, cocking her head to one side.

Gulping, and hoping that she hadn't seen anything damming (it was only a nondescript briefcase after all, surely she wouldn't remember it), Percy raced to collect his thoughts. 'Hi,' he exhaled, pulling himself back together, 'I've, uh, been getting drug tested by Triton, actually.'

Annabeth didn't look convinced but she let the matter drop. 'The deposition's this afternoon,' she reminded him, 'before they get here, I want you to grill this woman about her background for anything they might use against her.'

She waited a beat and then reiterated, 'got it?'

Percy restrained himself from telling his boss he's already run ten background checks on Joanna Webster to make sure her story was legitimate. Instead, he fixed a bright smile to his face and answered. 'Got it.'

'Make her tell you everything_._' Annabeth persisted.

Wondering why she suddenly cared so much about a case he was sure she felt was a waste of her time, Percy nodded. 'Everything.'

'_Everything._' Annabeth repeated once more, her tone suggesting that she wasn't kidding around and the matter was deadly serious. 'Okay?'

'Okay!' Percy exclaimed. His boss examined him for another moment before pursuing her lips and walking away, her body language making it clear that she back to her usual, sullen mood.

Percy rolled his eyes. If he didn't know better he would've thought _his _boss was on drugs. Chuckling at the thought and feeling infinitely reassured that his briefcase was secured; he turned to his computer and fired it up.

* * *

It was deposition time and Percy couldn't contain his excitement once again. The table was clear, the typist was in her place, ready to record everything and the video camera was set up, its tape just _waiting _to become proof to use against Eric Dwayne in Katie Gardiner's sexual harassment case.

Percy blew out his cheeks and caught his boss' eye across Joanna who sat between them. Annabeth gave him a small nod, whether indicating that she approved of his work or his tie he didn't know, but the gesture told him that he was back in her good graces. As he damn well should be, Percy thought, a might bitterly, he'd put in ten times the amount of work the other associates did: Annabeth Chase had every reason to thank him publicly.

Across the table Eric Dwayne sat with his lawyer (the every scowling George Stiles), his face giving nothing away. Percy contained the urge to throw a punch at that guy: in all his years, he'd never once felt the urge to force himself on _anyone. _He didn't understand how people like Eric Dwayne thought they could have their way with anybody just because they were in a position of wealth and power.

The usual formalities commenced and Percy forced himself to calm down—taking an example from his boss. Annabeth was leaning back in her chair, the very picture of polite indifference as she listened to the witness state her name, occupation, age etc. At her hand sat a small legal notepad but even Percy knew she had no use for it. Annabeth might not have been born with a photographic memory like he had, but she had a memory for detail that was truly commendable in its own right.

_Finally, _they arrived at the witness' account. Feeling as though he was charged in to a wall socket, Percy drummed his fingers on his lap as he listened to Joanna's testimony.

'I'd been working six months at Dwayne and McGregor,' Joanna began confidently, 'when Mr. Dwayne started asking me to work more.' She paused and winced, recalling the painful memories, 'he wanted to order dinner for me, take me out to movies—even though I refused several times.'

Percy hid his smile. He'd coached his witness well. Joanna was following the script both he and Annabeth had worked on to the letter. This was going way better than he thought it would.

'One night,' Joanna's voice cracked slightly with emotion, 'he tried to have sex with me.' She paused, gritting her teeth at the memory, 'the next day I requested a change in assignment.'

Percy had the pleasure of seeing Dwayne squirm in his seat. The bastard deserved to go to prison, Percy thought, but he was more than happy to settle for a public apology and a full admission of guilt. That would take care of the stock price on Dwayne and McGregor's shares at the very least.

'Two months later,' Joanna's tone was brittle, 'I was fired for having a "bad attitude."'

'This is ridiculous.' Dwayne scoffed from his side of the table, even though his breathing seemed a little erratic.

Percy contained the urge to speak. If he'd had it his way, Dwayne wouldn't have been at the deposition but Annabeth had informed him that it was his right. Glancing to his left, Percy found his boss' gaze on him, sending a clear message across. He was to keep his mouth shut.

Sighing, Percy focused on the table in front of him. Thankfully Joanna took the comment in her stride and fell silent, letting the battle go to the other side of the room.

'Ms. Webster,' Stiles said, shuffling his papers (Percy wondered whether it was something like a tic for him), 'after working at Dwayne and McGregor, you then went on to waitress at Hooters, correct?'

Percy winced inwardly. He'd been prepared for that particular nugget for information being brought up, and Annabeth had advised him not to worry about it: it was simply a divisionary tactic, but he couldn't help but sympathize for Joanna; she was in for a slur against her very person and technically, it was a completely legal question.

'Yes, I did.' Joanna's expression didn't change but there was a slight tremor in her voice that Percy didn't miss.

'A place that advertises the... _sexuality _of its staff, correct?' Stiles pressed, his gaze boring across the table.

Percy's fingers began to drum harder across his thigh. He took a silent breath and reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about. Annabeth would take care of anything out of the ordinarily.

Joanna shrugged at the question, giving nothing away. 'You'll have to ask them that.'

'But I'm asking you.' Stiles shot back, his tone hardening.

'And she's _not_ answering.' Annabeth's steady voice cut across the space like a surgical knife tearing out a tumour. 'Move on.'

Percy couldn't help the smirk on his face. Score one for Pearson Hardman. That would teach Stiles to not attempt to take Annabeth Chase on without sufficient backup. Percy wouldn't wait to see both Eric Dwayne and his slimy lawyer go down in flames.

Stiles shrugged, accepting defeat. 'Ms. Webster,' he began again, 'would you say that you're a truthful person?'

Percy narrowed his eyes. This was not in the script they'd prepared. He glanced discreetly at his boss and saw that her mouth was turned down ever so slightly at the edges: a sign that even she'd been blindsided. A little prick of worry flared inside Percy but he ignored it. They had this: Stiles was merely fishing for information.

'Yes.' Joanna answered a hint of trepidation apparent.

Stiles smiled coldly, 'hmm. So when you said earlier that you'd _never _been arrested for a crime...' he paused, letting the threat linger, 'you were speaking the truth?'

They were in dangerous waters, Percy realized immediately. Stiles had a trump card up his sleeve and Percy had _no _idea what it was. Racking his brain desperately for all the information he'd collected from the background checks, he came up with nothing. Whatever Stiles had was completely off the books Percy had checked.

Joanna looked cornered but managed to say, 'yes' without breaking eye contact.

'Yes?' Stiles looked positively amused, 'so in 1993 you were _not _arrested for stealing jewellery from the Willow Growth Mall in Pennsylvania?'

_Shit! _Was the only thought in Percy's head. How the hell had he missed something so important? He'd gone through _all _the records, dating back to before high school and Stiles couldn't have made it up—that was out of the question, which meant it was definitely legitimate. But Percy had _checked _with Joanna and she hadn't said anything of the sort. So _where _had Stiles got the evidence?

Percy got his answer soon enough.

Joanna was at a loss for words. 'I was _seventeen!_' She cried, 'That was _one _mistake! Those records were supposed to be sealed!'

Percy could feel Annabeth's gaze boring into him but for once he didn't have the courage to look her in the eye. Already the sense of failure was beginning to take root in his abdomen. Stiles, meanwhile, looked as though Christmas had come early for him.

'Oh, so when you said that the records were sealed, what you _meant,_' He grinned victoriously, 'is that you thought you could get away with a _lie?_'

'That's not it!' Joanna insisted, sounding as though she was going to burst into tears, 'you're making it seem different than it is!'

'Different that it is?' Stiles repeated incredulously, while Percy thought of ways he could sink into the floor without anyone noticing, 'you were arrested in your past and you lied about it now under oath: I fail to see the problem.'

Joanna glanced at Percy helplessly, no doubt hoping he would come to the rescue, but Percy didn't know what to say either. He'd done everything by the book—and really, he wasn't even a proper lawyer anyway. How was he to know about how to save the case?

Stiles shuffled his papers again, clearly enjoying himself. 'Tell me, Ms. Webster, since you've lied here once; what's to make us believe that you aren't lying about Mr. Dwayne?

And that was it. The final hit. The smoking gun. Stiles had laid it all out so beautifully –and on record too– that no judge in their right mind would take Joanna Webster's testimony seriously, therefore leaving Katie Gardiner with no other proof against Eric Dwayne's sexual harassment other than her word. Percy almost felt like hitting his head against the table with frustration: the bad guys weren't allowed to get away with it. Wasn't that the way of the world? But here Eric Dwayne –smirking widely– was going to walk because one witness hadn't trusted Percy with the full story.

Joanna stared at the table for a full five seconds, her lower lip trembling with emotion, before she rose from her chair and stalked out of the conference room without another word. Simultaneously Annabeth got up, threw a disdainful glance at Stiles and followed her, clicking her fingers next to Percy's ear as she went, indicating him to follow.

Feeling as though he was heading to a guillotine, Percy exited the room, waiting with a lump of fear in his throat as Annabeth said a few words to Joanna before turning to him.

Her grey eyes were blazing with anger. 'How the _hell _did you miss that arrest?' She snarled, almost making him back away a few feet.

Through the fog of shame enveloping him, Percy felt a hint of defiance. 'I went through _every _background check they had!'

'Did you grill her, like I _told _you to?' Annabeth fired back.

Percy struggled for words. He _had _asked about Joanna about her life, and yes, he had asked if she'd been caught on the wrong side of the law but since the background checks hadn't yielded anything great, he hadn't done a very thorough job.

'It was a _sealed record, _Annabeth!' He tried, hoping that she would see that he'd been as blindsided in the deposition as she had.

Annabeth threw up her hands in frustration. 'I knew it.' She hissed, anger resonating in her every syllable, 'you're an incompetent fool!'

Stung by her accusation, Percy began to fight back. 'That's a lie—and you know it. I've worked my ass off for this case.'

'Then prove me _wrong._' Annabeth shook her head as though she couldn't believe what had just happened. 'Fix this.' She said coldly, 'and fix it _now_. I am not losing this case because you didn't bother _talking _to the client!'

Percy opened his mouth to protest but his boss had already whirled away from him, making her way down the hall with purposeful strides. Giving vent to his frustration, Percy slammed his fist against the wall, breathing heavily. Through the glass door he saw Eric Dwayne smile innocently at him. Resisting the urge to throw up, Percy turned away and ran for the elevators. He _had _to get Joanna to listen: he couldn't lose this case.

He just couldn't.

* * *

'Joanna—wait!' Percy pushed his way through the crowd in the sidewalk, trying to keep the brown haired woman in sight. He rushed past the hot dog stand he frequented and jumped over a lady with a dozen poodles on one leash before finally catching up to her, 'hey—just _wait, _please!'

Joanna glanced back to look at him but kept walking. '_This _is why I didn't want to testify!' She stated, her tone trembling with suppressed fury, 'they _twist _something from a hundred years ago and make me sound like a liar!'

She brushed at her eye and Percy realized she was crying.

'They make it seem like what he did to me didn't happen!'

Percy increased his pace to keep up with her and ran through the options in his head. The deposition would never hold up in court but he still needed a witness to come forward to corroborate Katie's story. That would help stall the case if nothing else and it would buy Percy time to find more proof. Attempting to remain calm, he caught Joanna's arm and brought her to a stop under the awning of a very expensive lingerie shop.

'Look—it doesn't matter,' Percy said, untruthfully, because _it _did matter, 'I just need you to testify on Friday to keep this case alive: we don't have time to find anyone else!'

Joanna shook his hand off, 'No; I'm not doing this.' She glared at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, 'you _promised _me this wouldn't happen, and it _did_!'

He had promised, Percy admitted to himself. Right before he'd pulled the daughter crap on her, he'd insisted that he would protect her from any personal attacks, but she'd lied to him as well—so technically, they were quits weren't they?

'You never told me you were arrested,' He reminded her, hoping the gentle approach would yield results.

For a moment, Joanna seemed to actually consider the deal. She sighed heavily and looked around, obviously seeking reassurance from something other than the lawyer in front of her. Heart in his mouth, Percy waited: had he come through once more? Would he be able to go back at Annabeth and tell her that he'd fixed it?

Then Joanna's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. 'Don't contact me again, please.'

Percy wanted to grab on to her and plead some more but she threw herself into the crowd before he could react and disappeared within seconds, leaving him alone with nothing but the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.

* * *

It was 9 pm and Percy had been sitting at his desk for six hours, going through the personnel files for the second time, hoping he'd missed something so that he could find another witness. He'd checked and doubled checked everything but there wasn't a single lead he could dig into.

And now, he was staring at his Pearson Hardman ID card with nothing but a sense of failure surrounding him. The glazed photograph stared back at him, smiling distractedly for the photographer. When he'd received the card; he'd been overjoyed: how many people in the world got a job without having ever completing high school _or _college? He'd always known he was special, but life had given him a second chance—something that almost never happened for people like him.

He'd gotten the chance to actually make something of himself and he'd blown it.

The truth was he'd been kidding himself all along. He wasn't a lawyer, heck, he wasn't _anything. _He was just some guy on the street who had no ambition and no goals and no father. He'd been lost since the age of eleven and he'd never been able to find his way back. And now it was time to face the music: he belonged in the _other _world. The world where he smoked up every other day and took tests for people who actually wanted to get somewhere.

The world where he could sell a briefcase full of pot and keep his mother in care for another year.

Sighing with disgust, he slammed the ID card on his desk and picked up the briefcase, heading down to the elevator one last time. He was done with the fantasy life he'd been living for the past three days. It was time to get back to the real world.

The elevator was mercifully empty so he didn't have to smile politely at the successful people occupying it. In the back of his mind he wondered about how Rachel would react to the news that he'd quit. Would she miss him? He doubted it. She probably met associates who fell in love with her every day. And someday, she would probably fall back in love with one of them—some rich, successful guy who'd done everything right.

Sick with that thought, Percy walked out of the elevator and nodded to the bored guard at his desk. He was almost at the threshold –in more ways than one– when a voice called out to him, freezing him in the spot.

'What happened with the witness?'

Percy turned, unable to believe his ears. His _one _moment of self-pity and Annabeth Chase just _had _to appear, ruining everything. She stopped in front of him, waiting impatiently for an answer.

Deciding he could play the charade for a few more minutes, Percy shrugged indifferently. 'Nothing,' he admitted, feeling the nip of disappointment eat at his insides, 'nothing happened. I couldn't fix it.'

Annabeth regarded him silently for a moment and then lifted up something –a square, plastic something– for him to see. 'So you're just going to quit?'

Staring at his ID card, Percy couldn't keep the distaste out of his voice. 'Either that or have Triton Gray fire me.'

'What're you talking about?' Annabeth seemed genuinely confused.

Annoyed that she was keeping him from running, Percy let all his fears show in his words. 'My first day; Triton fired Gary Libsky for screwing up a case,' he paused, the memory still nauseating him, 'he said if I did the same thing, I'd be gone just as fast.'

'Then go back to the witness and get her to testify again.' Annabeth said, her tone suggesting that she didn't see what the problem was.

Percy couldn't believe his ears. How stupid did his boss think he was? Didn't she know that he wanted to win as much as she did? 'I tried,' he hissed, remembering Katie's hopeful expression when he'd first met her, 'there's no way.'

'There's always a way.' Annabeth retorted, calmly.

Her tone broke him. Physically. Unable to keep the anger and resentment out of his tone, he snapped. 'Then why don't _you _go and convince her?!'

'Because _you_ screwed it up.' Annabeth pointed out, still maintaining her infuriatingly cool demeanour.

Percy laughed humourlessly. Of course, all his boss cared about was winning. She didn't give a damn about anything else. In her eyes, Percy had to manipulate every single person he met just to get keep her track record clean. He stared at Annabeth and didn't attempt to keep the disgust he felt from showing. 'Oh, and you don't give a about the client. Right.'

'It's not my job.' Annabeth didn't even look insulted.

'Then is it your job to care about _me_? Because the _least_ you can do is stand up to Triton _for_ me!' Percy yelled, not even sure as to why he was bringing it up into her face like that. He just felt so... confused, like he'd been put into a grinder and come out complete a mess. Sure he'd known Annabeth only focused on her job, but he'd thought –or rather, hoped– that given their camaraderie, she'd actually think about him once in a while.

For the first time in the entire conversation Annabeth's expression turned serious. 'Stand up for you?' She repeated quietly, 'I put my _job _on the line for _you._'

Breathing heavily, Percy stood there, not knowing what to say. Behind him, he could hear the city calling out to him, telling him that he could still succeed. And in front of him, Annabeth glared, her expression a mix of disappointment and regret.

'You may have had the balls to _get _this job,' She said, showing for the first time that maybe, she did appreciate him in her own way, 'but it turns out you don't have the _courage _to keep it.'

Percy gritted his teeth. 'That's not true.'

'Isn't it?' Annabeth countered, stepping close to him, 'you've had one foot out of the door since you got here!'

Distracted by her gray eyes and her beautiful mouth, and infuriated by her suggestion, Percy picked the first words out his head. 'What're you _talking _about?' He demanded, wishing, not for the first time that he _wasn't _surrounded by beautiful women who didn't give a shit about him.

'I'm talking about that _briefcase _being locked in your desk.' Annabeth hissed, as he retreated a few paces, thunderstruck by knowledge. 'Yeah,' she continued frostily, 'I saw it—and I know what it is.'

Trapped, Percy could only shift guiltily on the spot.

'It's your backup plan,' Annabeth continued, 'in case _this,' _she gestured back at the building behind her, 'doesn't work out. You can make some quick cash and go right back to the life that _you _told me you didn't want to lead!'

And he _didn't_ want to lead it, Percy thought miserably. He'd never wanted to lead it but fate had gotten in his way. His father had died, his landlord had abused him, he'd gotten sucked into a dangerous friendship and his mother had fallen sick. Wasn't that reason enough to know that things never worked out for him? Didn't she know that he'd been trying for so long that this failure was the last straw for him?

Annabeth's shook her head resignedly, 'if you want to quit then go ahead.' She shrugged, making it clear that she could always find another associate if she wanted to, 'but this isn't about me and it isn't about Triton. It's about you not being able to take back control of yourself.'

Struck by her words, Percy didn't know what to say. He _wanted _this job. He liked it: he liked everything about it. He didn't mind the long hours and the shit he had to take from Triton. He loved working with Malcolm and Rachel. He enjoyed the adrenalin rush when he got something done and he never felt prouder of himself than when Annabeth complimented him.

But was he good enough? He'd been special all his life but was he special enough to hold on to this once chance that fate was giving him.

'If you're here in the morning; I'll know I still have an associate.' Annabeth said into the silence. She appraised him one more time and turned around, heading back to the elevators.

Percy stared at her retreating back. She'd just handed him another lifeline. The question was did he have the tenacity to hold on to it? Feeling as though his head was going to burst with the choices he had to make, he walked down slowly into the street. It was time to go back to the basics: to the _one _person who had never failed him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Characters doing't belong to me. _Suits, _is a registered trademark which belongs to its parent network. This fanfiction is for entertainment use only.**

**Warning: This story is extremely fast-paced. Please skip if descriptions are your thing.**

* * *

**ACT SEVEN: INCOMPLETE.**

Annabeth Chase had no qualms entering the men's restroom if it meant she had to get a point across. Sure, some people might curl their lips in disgust at the very thought but Annabeth hadn't got the position she was in by caring about what other people did. She did things her own way, always had, that was the way she'd brought herself up after things with her family went south.

Pushing open the door, she ignored Triton's squawk of protest and walked up right up to him. The junior partner had evidently been reapplying his hair gel and he looked positively furious that someone had caught him in such a personal moment.

'What're you _doing _here?' He asked, injured by the invasion of her privacy.

Normally, Annabeth would've rolled her eyes and come up with something witty (your husband sent me to check on you) but right now, she wasn't in the mood. Some people (correctly) assumed that she didn't give a damn about anyone but herself and that was usually fine with her. But the thought that Jackson, the guy she'd stuck her neck out for, was accusing her of being self serving bothered her immensely.

Annabeth didn't know _why _his opinion mattered so much to her. Half the time she didn't even _like _her associate and the other half of the time she merely tolerated him because he was somewhat decent at his job. Therefore it made no logical sense as to why she was confronting Triton on Jackson's behalf.

Annabeth fixed Triton with a cool stare. 'I get that you were upset that I was promoted before you, but if you _ever _threaten to fire _my _associate again: I will personally destroy you.'

Triton looked a trifle scared but still attempted to play his innocence. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't play games with me,' Annabeth hissed, stepping forward and forcing Triton to back away from her, 'you fired Gary Libsky in front of Percy Jackson.'

Against all odds, Triton smiled, his teeth glinting white in the harsh glow of the ceiling lights. 'That's funny: Gary Libsky works in the mailroom. I can't fire him.'

'What?' Annabeth had dealt with Triton's crazy shit before but this was just way over the top. What scheme had the junior partner cooked up this time for his own amusement?

Triton grinned gleefully, 'I thought I'd let the new associates know what was expected of them.' He shrugged as though it was no big deal, 'I didn't fire anyone, for anything.'

Disgust flared inside Annabeth. Sometimes she wondered what Triton's parents had done to him for him to turn out this way. He was a creepy, slimy lizard who seemed to enjoy the terror he held over his underlings and had no balls whatsoever when it came to dealing with his seniors.

'You planted a fake employee,' Annabeth said slowly, still unable to deal with the fact that the man in front of her had sunk so slow, 'just to manipulate the associates—?'

She stopped; all thoughts of Triton and Jackson forgotten. In mind's eye she saw Joanna Webster's tear stained face swim in front of her, with George Stile's crafty expression. Suddenly it all made sense, because never in living memory had Annabeth lost a pro bono case when the fight was clean. Which only meant that the other side had decided get their hands dirty.

Smiling, Annabeth pulled out her phone. 'That's it.' She muttered to herself, hitting the search engine which would help her find Joanna Webster's home address. It was time that "witness" got a visit from a lawyer who knew how to play hardball.

'What is it?' Triton questioned, slightly hesitant no doubt because he'd admitted to a pretty serious charge of intimidation to someone who was, technically, his superior.

Shaking her head at the junior partner in front of her, Annabeth left the restroom. She had bigger fish to fry: after all, her Senior Partner position was on the line.

* * *

Opening the door to his mother's ward gently, Percy began second guessing himself. It was nearly 10 pm and visiting hours were long over. It was only because Paul had been kind enough to let him in had Percy made it so far but the kindness would have all been for moot if his mother was asleep. As desperate as he was for her advice, he didn't want to wake her up from her much needed rest.

He shut the door softly and leaned against it, surveying the room. Everything was in its usual place. The machines were connected up and the power buttons on the various computer screens glowed lightly in the darkness.

The only thing out of place was his mother's eyes. They were wide open and staring directly at him.

'Percy?' She whispered, holding out her hand as though checking to see if he was real.

Moving quickly, he grasped it in his own and sat down on the edge of her bed, careful to not disturb the tubes attached to her arm. 'Hey...' He kissed her knuckles, worried about how cold they felt against his lips, 'why're you still awake?'

His mother sighed but didn't look unhappy. 'I was just remembering.'

Percy didn't need to ask about whom. His father had been dead for fourteen years but his mother had never really gotten over it. Personally, he didn't quite see how. He'd always admired his dad for having the most awesome job ever; but even he knew that his father was a complete douche. Mr. Jackson had died and left his wife in severe debt, along with a couple of enemies who seemed determined to cut down the whole family tree.

'But that's just me,' Sally turned to him, her eyes bright with vitality, 'what brings you to my sickbed at this hour?'

Percy hesitated. How was he supposed to admit defeat to the one person he wanted to make proud? Then he remembered that he'd only come here because she was the only person who could help him. Unable to meet his mother's gaze, he spoke to the bedspread. 'I want to quit.'

Saying the words out loud made everything seem more real. The briefcase. Luke. Bianca. His dad. Rachel. Triton... Annabeth. All of them rushed into his head, confusing him and messing up his priorities. What was he supposed to do?

'You know...' His mother said after a while, her tone gentle, 'when your father died I didn't just lose my husband. I lost the love of my life, my best friend and the only family I'd ever had.'

Percy sighed, glancing up at his mom. If there was anyone who'd had a worse run with luck than him it was her: his mom had grown up with an uncle who'd never given a damn about her. She'd put herself through college and then met and fell for a man who'd _very _questionable ethics, only for said man to die and leave her with crippling loans and a brat for a son.

After which, she'd had to deal with an abusive landlord, a job which was beneath her and the same son who got kicked out of high school and fallen into substance abuse.

'I was scared,' Sally smiled sadly, 'alone and I—I didn't know how to raise you.'

Percy felt tears prickling his eyes. His problems looked like ants in front of what his mother had faced.

'But I had no choice,' His mom's voice strengthened, 'because I wasn't going to let anyone else raise _my _son.' She smiled fondly at him, 'and I'd like to think, that despite everything, I raised a decent man.'

Choked with emotion, Percy tried to make her stop. 'Mom—'

'My point is,' Sally cut him off firmly, 'that for the first time in your life you're standing in the doorway of success. Don't leave just because you think you don't deserve it. Because you do.' She reached forward and ran a hand down his cheek, 'you deserve happiness as much as everyone else, Percy. But you _have_ to be willing to fight for it.'

Percy gazed at his mother and felt a monument of love for her grow inside him. He'd made a promise to her once before and now he was determined to keep it. He could take shit from Triton, and Luke _and _Annabeth if it meant making her proud.

'You know mom,' he smiled, 'you've become quite a smart lady in here.'

Sally rolled her eyes, 'it's all because of Paul. He keeps trying to have intelligent conversations with me.'

Percy couldn't help but laugh. Grinning, and feeling incredibly relieved, as though a weight had been lifted off his chest, he leaned forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. 'I'll tell him you enjoy the conversations.' He winked as his mother narrowed his eyes.

'Perseus Jackson,' she said, mock theatrically, 'you wouldn't _dare._'

Grinning, he got off the bed and bade her goodnight, feeling her love for him solidify into strength inside him. He knew what he had to do now. Enough was enough, there was no turning back.

* * *

Annabeth knocked on the door in front of her and resisted glancing at her watch. She had plenty of time it was only seven thirty in the morning. The whole day was at her feet, waiting to be put to good use to getting back her Senior Partnership. The sounds of early morning blue collar workers filtered past as several men ran down the staircase, obviously in a hurry to catch their public transport.

Annabeth smiled fondly, remembering her days as an associate to Chiron. Her boss had run her like a dog and she remembered sleeping over in the office more than oncee. Jackson, she thought to herself briefly, did not know how easy he'd had it.

The door opened, bringing Annabeth back to the present.

Joanna Webster glanced at her for a second and then made to shut the door, 'you can save your breath—there's _no _way I'm testifying at the hearing tomorrow.'

Annabeth slammed her hand against the door, stopping its path. She didn't take it jokingly when someone decided to play dirty with her, and the fact that her Senior Partnership was on the line, only made her angrier.

'That's not why I'm here.' She stated coolly, 'I know what you did.'

Joanna gulped, but stood her ground. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'You _never _worked for Dwayne and McGregor.' Annabeth said quietly, waiting a beat to see Joanna's reaction. Satisfied that she was on the correct path, Annabeth continued, 'and you were never harassed by Eric Dwayne.'

Joanna shook her head, still attempting to keep up with the charade, 'that's a lie—'

'Look,' Annabeth interrupted, not bothering to keep her voice down anymore, 'I could tell you that I have the cancelled cheques or the wire transfer or whatever smoking gun there exists, but I don't.' She shrugged, hardening her tone, 'However, soon enough, I will and when I _do; _you'll be going to jail.'

Acute fear crossed Joanna's face and for a moment she looked like she was going to faint. Annabeth sighed, deciding to be a little sympathetic even if she didn't really feel like it. The woman did not deserve to be handled gently; no one who tried to cross the best closer in the city deserved to be handled gently.

'Unless...' Annabeth offered, deciding against her killer instinct, 'you tell me what really happened, _right now._'

Joanna considered the proposal, attempting to stall but she caved within ten seconds—just like Annabeth knew she would. No amount of money could buy a person's complete loyalty, especially when jail time was brought into the scenario.

'All I had to do was waste your time till tomorrow,' Joanna admitted, 'until after the hearing. Please—' her voice turned pleading, 'I just needed the money. I don't want to go to jail.'

Annabeth smiled coldly. Game, set and match. Pro Bono or not, there was nothing Annabeth Chase liked better than closing a deal. She regarded the hapless woman in front of her, sifting through the facts of the case quickly.

'Here's what you're going to do.'

* * *

Luke's expression when he opened the door was priceless.

Percy wanted to stop and say something witty but he had get to office to beg for his job back and he wanted to get there refreshed and ready for the world.

Percy breezed in, swinging the briefcase in his hand but stopped short when he saw Bianca on the couch. He hadn't expected her to be there, and frankly, he didn't want to drag her into the mess. But then he reminded himself that any consequence that happened wasn't his fault anymore. He set the briefcase down on the coffee table and turned to Luke, unsuccessfully trying to squash the flare of resentment inside him.

'I'm not giving this to you because you need it,' Percy said pointedly, gesturing to the briefcase, 'I'm giving it to you because I don't.'

Luke seemed at a loss for words.

Percy took a deep breath, 'and I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you or not,' he shrugged still not happy with the way his supposed best friend had treated him, 'but I _do _know that we're even.'

Bianca's startled expression cut Percy right to the bone and he turned away, wanting nothing more than to leave. Something caught his interest though, and ignoring Luke's protests, headed back inside the apartment, aiming for the bedroom.

Once inside, he opened the cupboard and rummaged inside, selecting the six clothes hangers which all had coverings on them, obviously used to protect the expensive garments inside. Tuning out Luke's repeated attempts to get him to talk, Percy crossed the floor but stopped next to the table which held the briefcase.

He glanced at Bianca and made up his mind. It was time for all of them to stop living a lie. If Annabeth Chase had taught him one thing, it was to seize the moment as it went. And charity, as they said, always had to be begun at home.

Leaning forward, he flipped the catch and let the lid fall open, spilling the dozen packets of weed everywhere to both Luke and Bianca's horror.

Raising his eyebrow, he grinned at his oldest (and best) friend. '_Now, _we're even.'

* * *

Annabeth was perusing the morning newspaper with great interest when her associate appeared outside her door, looking like another person in his dashing new clothes. He didn't even have the ugly skinny tie anymore. The entire jacket was cut smoothly, highlighting his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Wondering what had changed in one night, she gestured for him to come in and set the newspaper aside. There was time enough to catch up with the world around her, first she needed to figure out what sort of transformation Jackson had undergone.

'I see you came into work today,' Annabeth regarded him carefully; tossing out the ID card she'd kept from the night before. 'Nice suit.'

Jackson smiled, accepting the compliment (along with the card) without a shred of childishness. 'It was a barter transaction,' he informed her, 'I got _six _of them for one little briefcase.'

Appreciating the underlying meaning of his words, Annabeth nodded. There was hope for her associate yet. For a person who'd looked like a cornered dog when she'd last met him, Jackson seemed remarkably at ease with himself: perhaps for the first time since he'd started working. Annabeth now understood how the lack of his education had taken such a toll on him and promised to go a little easier on him. It wasn't everyday she found a man who was willing to fight back when life threw curveballs in his way.

'Listen...' Jackson shifted uneasily on the spot, 'I'm sorry about what I said last night—'

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for waterworks. 'Forget about it,' she got up from the chair and turned to face her window which showed her the rolling expanse of the city she loved, 'I just told you what you needed to hear.'

'That's just it...' Jackson murmured, joining her at the window, 'I've only ever had _one _person who told me what I needed to hear,' he sighed and glanced at her, green eyes examining her openly, 'maybe it's time I started trusting somebody else.'

Annabeth thought about his words and found (much to her surprise) that she actually quite approved of them. She and Jackson may not have the perfect employer-employee relationship but the fact that he seemed willing to try, convinced her that she'd made the right choice to pick him for the job. So what if he was annoying, unduly sensitive and completely stubborn? She could live with it, and perhaps, help him understand his true worth.

'Oh and about the Katie Gardiner case...' Jackson looked hesitant and Annabeth decided that (for just this once) she would let him have it. He _had _done most of the work anyway. He'd just been unable to sniff out a lie.

Smiling, she turned around and picked up the file she'd had Malcolm type up. 'You might want to take a look at this.'

Jackson frowned in confusion but accepted the file, flipping it open and going through it in a matter of half a minute. Annabeth watched as disbelief crossed his features and when he looked at her, she had to control the urge to laugh.

'Are you serious?' Jackson looked positively wounded.

Annabeth shrugged. This was the life lawyers led. It was time he got used to it. 'You know what to do.' She told him, hoping that her instructions hadn't all gone to waste on the guy.

Jackson gazed at her thoughtfully, until a decidedly evil smirk crossed his face. 'Press until it hurts.' He quoted; his green eyes alight with humour.

_Atta boy, _Annabeth thought turning away. It was time Dwayne and McGregor got their ass handed to them. After all they'd done; they certainly deserved it.

* * *

'... wire transfer from _your _account to Joanna Webster's. Phone records with Joanna Webster prior to her testimony _and_ a signed affidavit stating that you _paid _Ms. Webster to falsely testify.'

Annabeth had to admit that for a guy who usually seemed to be all soft and cuddly, Jackson could play hardball as good as anyone else. Her associate punctuated each line with a paper of damming evidence, dropping the sheets into Stile's unsteady hands.

Annabeth grinned as Jackson paced in front of the lawyer and his client, his expression beautifully indifferent.

'Mr. Dwayne,' Jackson turned the full force of his glare to the CEO of Dwayne and McGregor, 'sexual harassment is a civil violation; the penalty for which is money,' Jackson shrugged, 'but witness tampering... that's a crime.'

He grinned and continued, just like Annabeth had taught him. 'And you _will _go to prison where,' Jackson rubbed his chin thoughtfully, 'you will learn more about unwanted sexual advances than you can possibly imagine.'

'Do you think this going to _intimidate _me?' Dwayne didn't look too shaken, (something Annabeth was soon going to fix) 'who d'you think is going to prosecute a small time witness tampering charge, huh?'

The guy knew his law, Annabeth conceded. Witness tampering charges were only taken seriously during criminal cases not for a minnow affair like this one. However, she and her associate had anticipated the hiccup and searched out an answer.

Jackson grinned, 'I'm glad you asked, Mr. Dwayne.' He turned to Annabeth, just like they'd rehearsed and affected an innocent tone for his question, 'Hey—Annabeth, didn't you go to Law School with the current US Attorney in New York?'

Stiles' expression was the only thing that Annabeth focused on. The idiot thought he could beat _her _at a game she'd been born to win. Smiling slightly, she answered her associate's question in the same tone he'd used.

'In fact I did. And I think she might even be interested in pursuing a case like this.'

'Wait; are you two still close?' Jackson was obviously enjoying himself and Annabeth couldn't find it in herself to not play along. Stile's expression made up for the childishness she was resorting to.

'I _was_ the maid of honour at her wedding,' she shrugged, trying to make it look like it wasn't that big a deal.

Dwayne was trembling with anger. 'You're bluffing!'

'No...' Annabeth shook her head theatrically and pulled out her phone, hitting the correct keys with deft movements, 'here are some pictures at the ceremony.' She held it out for everyone to see, providing a running commentary because it was just so damn fun.

'That's me and her mom... and oh; that's us at her bachelorette party,' Annabeth winced with great feeling, 'it was pretty lame: there were no strippers, but then...' She paused and rested her full gaze on the despicable man in front of her, 'she can't put guys like you away and then go to strip clubs, can she?'

Stiles stood up, crumpling the evidence papers in his hands. 'That's enough: what do you want?'

Annabeth smiled and retreated, content to let her associate take over from there. She'd played most of her part; there was just one little piece left.

'An admission of guilt,' Jackson holding out the settle agreement they'd drawn up with Katie Gardiner's consent, 'and a guarantee that you'll obtain treatment before working again...' He threw down the document right in front of Dwayne's nose.

Dwayne rolled his eyes. 'Whatever.'

'...and Katie gets reinstated _with _back pay.' Jackson continued, as Annabeth smiled politely at Stiles' horrified glance towards her.

Dwayne gritted his teeth. 'Fine.'

'_And _a raise.' Jackson added, after exchanging a victorious look with Annabeth. She winked at him discreetly as Stiles, leaped to his feet, his face showing obvious distress.

'Okay, that's enough.' The lawyer could barely button his suit properly, 'are we done here?'

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Even though Stiles was older than her: he was still a complete rookie. No decent lawyer ended a settlement offer with an open ended question like that. Especially not then the opposition had his balls in a vice.

'The kid _should _be able to grow up without the burden of tuition, don't you think?' Annabeth couldn't resist throwing it out there as Jackson nodded exaggeratedly in agreement.

'Which is why,' Jackson pointed once more to the paperwork in Stile's hand, 'you're going to pay Katie an extra two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.'

Dwayne leaped to his feet, trembling with range. 'You think you can just—?'

'Eric!' Stiles stopped his client from continuing though Annabeth wished he hadn't. She would've _loved _to add threat with violence to the charge sheet since then the guy would've had to shell out _more_ money. Sadly, Dwayne seemed to listen to his lawyer and he backed away, breathing heavily.

'You'll have the signature by the end of the day.' Stiles nodded without meeting her gaze and caught Dwayne's arm, leading the CEO out of the courtroom before he could blow his top. Annabeth watched them go with immense satisfaction: she'd served those idiots her revenge _and _she'd all but secured her Senior Partnership position. It was turning out to be a good day indeed.

Jackson, however, looked dazed. 'Did I just—woah.' He shook his head and breathed heavily, finally letting her see how petrified he'd really been. From the other end of the room, Katie ran towards him, tears of happiness falling down her cheeks.

'Percy,' she said his name almost reverently as she enveloped Annabeth's associate in a hug, 'thank you—thank you _so _much.'

Jackson grinned at Katie, 'you're welcome.' He said sincerely.

Annabeth watched the scene and shrugged, okay so maybe, the fact that the client was obviously overjoyed made a little bit of a difference too. Whatever, it was all the same thing to her. Winning was winning, if she had a grateful client as well to add to the list as well, she wasn't going to say no.

* * *

'So... just one question. Why'd you go to Joanna's house?'

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at Jackson's question as they headed down the steps and made their way towards her car. Didn't her associate already _know _the answer? After all they _had _just won the case. Was Jackson losing his memory already? That was slightly worrying. They'd only just begun their crusade into the high profile world of Pearson Hardman cases.

'Because I figured it out.' Annabeth shrugged, resigning herself to the fact that explaining obvious things to her associate was now part of her job description.

Jackson shook his head, 'no—I mean, you could've just taken it to trial and _then _brought it up... but you didn't.'

Annabeth sighed, wondering why people always needed to know reasons behind her actions. She _had _thought about letting to go to trial but for some reason (a purely logical one of course) she'd wanted to let Jackson have his chance at winning something. Instead of sharing that piece of information, she said out loud, 'it was the easier option.'

'Uh huh...' Jackson didn't look convinced. 'I object. You did it because you _cared._'

Annabeth snorted, the guy seemed to puke rainbows at every moment of the day. 'I did it because it's my _job._'

'Would you just admit it?' Jackson put his hand on the door she was attempting to open and put his face close to hers, his green eyes glowing with happiness, 'you care about me.'

Annabeth stared at him, feeling a little uncomfortable –in a good way– about his nearness. The last time she'd felt something like this was when... no she wouldn't go to that. Brushing, Jackson off she rolled her eyes and pulled the door open. 'You're an idiot.'

'I saw you smile you know...' Jackson leaped around and entered from the car from other door in record time, 'when I came into the office. You were happy to see me.'

Annabeth sighed. He was like a dog with a bone: unwilling to let go till somebody wrenched it away. Turning back to the messages on her phone she said, 'I was thinking of a funny joke. Want to hear about it? It's about you _not _going to Law school.' She glanced at him when he didn't answer, half-worried that he'd taken the barb seriously but found, to her relief that he was still grinning.

As the car engine hummed, she pulled out picked up the file left between them and tossed it to him. 'Study this thoroughly: we start on the Kliner case tomorrow.'

Jackson flipped through it carelessly. 'Does it mean we're officially a team now?' He asked, his serious tone at odds with the glinting gaze.

Annabeth considered the question. 'I wouldn't move your things into Wayne Manor _just _yet.'

'Haha, that's real—' Jackson stopped, suddenly realizing the full extent of what she'd said, '_wait_: you're Batman? And that makes me, what, Robin?' His tone couldn't be more injured.

'You'd look good in tights.' Annabeth said straight faced as the car whisked them away, heading back to Pearson Hardman where the rest of the corporate world waited for them to take it by storm.

* * *

**A/N: And that's it. That's the first episode. Do I want to do more? The answer to that is a resounding yes, and I'll definitely change things up because Mike and Harvey's relationship is not romantic but Percy and Annabeth's could quite possibly be. Your reviews should tell me whether to continue this. If the general vote is 'please,' then I'll simply add chapters to this story. **

**But for now; this story is complete.**


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